


You Be The Anchor

by honeywolf, mylittlemindpalace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Cora died in the fire, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Wears Glasses, Derek is a werewolf, Fluff, Hale Family Feels, Hale fire happened, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Stilinski Family Feels, Werewolves can have bad eyesight, mention of underage, no lens flare when werewolves are photographed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 83,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywolf/pseuds/honeywolf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlemindpalace/pseuds/mylittlemindpalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t look like a sophomore,” the guy said, raising one corner of his mouth. “Not that I care, don’t get me wrong here, I wouldn’t care if you were thirty-” he stopped, standing up and throwing another box off his bed in the process. “It’s just that you don’t look like thirty. You just don’t look like a sophomore, that’s all I’m saying. Well, I thought I was going to be put in a room with another sophomore, like they did with the freshmen, which… doesn’t make that much sense in retrospect, does it?” He frowned for a moment.<br/>“So, we’re roommates then, right?” He extended his hand. Derek looked at him for a long moment, his eyebrows shooting up, before taking and slowly shaking it.<br/>“I’m Stiles. I actually wanted to be roommates with my best friend Scott, we shared a room last year, but the secretary, who was very, very unfriendly by the way, told us to fuck off. Not in those words exactly, but you get my drift, right?” </p>
<p>In which Derek gets a new roommate and is not amused. At all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boredshootwall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredshootwall/gifts).



>  [](http://imgur.com/6gwA1RU)
> 
> First off, some general info/disclaimers/stuff:  
>  This story was written for our friend [ Vera's ](http://iamboredletsshootthewall.tumblr.com/) 24th birthday.  
>  The title is inspired by a song by Mayday Parade, which is called "You Be the Anchor That Keeps My Feet On the Ground, I'll Be the Wings That Keep Your Heart In the Clouds".  
>  The cover was made by honeywolf, and the absolutely amazing illustrations were made by our good friend [ Sunny ](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com/) and we will be forever grateful.  
>  It is rated 'Mature' because of some relatively violent chapters towards the end of the fic, but other than that it's pretty harmless. We will do our best to put extra warnings on certain chapters if the need arises.  
>  Sunny and [ Astrid ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle/) were also the most amazing beta-readers we could have wished for, THANK YOU.  
>  We have absolutely no clue whatsoever how Harvard works (or US-American universities in general, for that matter), so most of the college-related stuff is completely made up.  
>  Also, we obviously don't own the amazingness that is MTV's Teen Wolf.  
>  If you feel like we forgot a tag or a warning, or if you find a typo, or if you just want to say hi then feel free to talk to us here or on tumblr: [ Helena ](http://mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com/) & [ Julie ](http://honeywolf.tumblr.com/)  
>  Also please check out Astrid's [ tumblr](http://nigelbruce.tumblr.com) and Sunny's [ art tumblr ](http://alexsolyart.tumblr.com/).

[](http://imgur.com/4DSA4jk)

 

# Chapter 1

## Irritation (ɪrɪˈteɪʃn) : noun - the state of feeling annoyed, impatient, or slightly angry

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Derek’s phone felt uncomfortable against his ear, the sharp corners pushing into his skin as he ran his fingers along its smooth surface, jogging down the stairs. His free hand clenched into a fist as he navigated through the corridors which were steadily filling with students coming back from summer break.

“What do you expect me to say, we never really talk about anything,” Jackson started and Derek rolled his eyes. “Danny and I got this really cool apartment only about fifteen minutes away from campus. I got my own room and all, and it’s not that much more expensive than the dorm rooms, I _had_ to say yes.”

“You should have told me,” he murmured the same moment Jackson yelled something not directed at him. “I’ve got to go, bye,” Jackson said, hanging up before Derek could say anything else.

Derek let out a frustrated sigh and crammed his phone back into his jeans pocket. Sprinting down the corridor, he took the next set of stairs almost without touching the ground. He nearly ran into a guy blindly carrying boxes upstairs, his messy hair the only thing visible behind the huge stack of moving boxes he was desperately clinging to.

“Watch it,” Derek hissed despite him being the one running into the guy, turning around only to meet the guy’s irritated stare before Derek came to a halt in front of the secretary’s office. He only had about half an hour left before it closed and there were a dozen people in line before him, each of them every bit as impatient as he was. The girl in front of him tapped her toes to the music she was listening to, her flip flops gruesomely squeaking every time she moved her feet. “What’s it with the eyebrows? You keep staring at me,” she snarled after a couple of minutes, pulling out her earplugs.

“You’re noisy,” Derek told her , shrugging, but she only raised her eyebrows and put her earplugs back in, humming along and tapping her feet against the floor.

Three Muse songs and “Bohemian Rhapsody” later it was her turn to get into the office. Derek scraped his fingernails against his palms, willing them to stay blunt and not to form into claws as he waited impatiently for the girl to get out again before the office was closing. A couple of freshmen were chattering and giggling while walking by and Derek rolled his eyes as he leaned against the wall - after a whole summer of being on his own, able to enjoy the quiet, the ever-rising noise level of the hallway got onto his nerves.

He almost ran into Earplug Girl when she opened the door after what must have been an eternity, squeezing past her to get into the room before the secretary could call it a day and close the office.

“I need an application form for a single room,” he told the middle aged woman with a name tag saying _S. Masley_ in front of him. She raised her eyebrows at him, taking a sip of her Seven Upand pointed her finger at a printout hanging on the wall next to her.

 

_Registration for single rooms closes August 28th._

 

Derek bit back a curse. He was a day late. He breathed in and tried to stay as calm as possible, repeating the mantra his mother had taught him - _alpha, beta, omega, alpha, beta, omega_ \- silently in his head over and over again.

“It’s an emergency. You see, my ex-roommate only told me today he was moving out and I can’t possibly share my room with a stranger.”

Ms. Masley only blinked at him. “This is Harvard University,” she said slowly, carefully pronouncing every word. “And since you’re a student here, I suppose you can read.” She smiled at him sweetly, and Derek could see her lipstick had stained her front teeth.

“So,” she continued, the smile vanishing from her lips, “what does it say?”

“Registrations closed yesterday,” Derek answered. “Look, I have money, I -”

The woman cut him off, staring at him, completely unimpressed. “You’re not the only one.” She pushed an application form in front of him. “See, I can put you on the waiting list, maybe get you a single room around January if enough people drop out, but until then, have fun with your new roommate. Now hurry up, I’m not working overtime.”

Derek quickly filled out the form, handing it back to Ms. Masley, who squinted at him.

“I hope your roommate doesn’t have the same anger issues you have,” she told him quietly and shooed him out, not before Derek noticed the dents his claws had left behind on the edge of her desk.

 

***

 

Derek arrived at his dorm room just in time to hear something crash onto the floor and someone cursing loudly. He opened the door, peeking into the chamber. The side of the room that had belonged to Jackson was a mess of boxes, books, and clothes, smaller items cluttering the floor from where they had fallen out of one of the boxes. A guy, the one from before with the messy hair, crouched in between the mess, glancing up at him with his arms flailing when he tried to get up.

“You don’t look like a sophomore,” the guy said, raising one corner of his mouth. “Not that I care, don’t get me wrong here, I wouldn’t care if you were thirty-” he stopped, standing up and throwing another box off his bed in the process. “It’s just that you don’t look like thirty. You just don’t look like a sophomore, that’s all I’m saying. Well, I thought I was going to be put in a room with another sophomore, like they did with the freshmen, which… doesn’t make that much sense in retrospect, does it?” He frowned for a moment.

 “So, we’re roommates then, right?” He extended his hand. Derek looked at him for a long moment, his eyebrows shooting up, before taking and slowly shaking it.

“I’m Stiles. I actually wanted to be roommates with my best friend Scott, we shared a room last year, but the secretary, who was very, _very_ unfriendly by the way, told us to fuck off. Not in those words exactly, but you get my drift, right?” Stiles shoved a couple of books to sit down on the bed and crossed his legs.

“What’s your major?” He looked at Derek for a second, moving on when he didn’t get an answer. “Mine is applied mathematics. I know it sounds kinda nerdy and stuff, well, it kinda is… I thought about studying physics, but then I realized I would basically end up as one of the guys on _The Big Bang Theory_ , except without the part where the beautiful blonde waitress-slash-actress moves in next door and falls in love with me. And I prefer maths anyways. My best friend wants to become a vet, I still can’t believe he actually did it. He wasn’t kidding when he told me he would do anything to fulfill his dream, he actually managed to get into college on a sports scholarship.” Stiles smiled widely and Derek’s eyebrows shot up again. How the hell was he supposed to survive this year?

“I guess it’s better that way, though. Scott’s a bit of an oversharer -” Derek had to suppress a laugh, ”-and to be honest, I’m not sure if I’d survive sharing a room with him for the next couple years. You know, having to hear about how often he makes love to his beautiful, perfect girlfriend, how passionate their kisses are, how much he loves her cute little dimples when she laughs, that kind of thing.”

“What the actual fuck,” Derek mumbledunder his breath when Stiles started throwing even more books onto his bed.

Stiles turned around to him. “You say something?” His gaze shifted to Derek’s shelf and he dumped the stuff he had in his hands on his bed and walked over.

“Is that a wolf?” he said when he saw the small wooden statuette on the ledge. “It looks hand-made, is it hand-crafted? Did you carve this?”

“Don’t touch that,” Derek muttered.

“Sorry?”

“I said, do not touch it.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and backed off, continuing emptying his suitcase.

“So, back to you. What are you, a senior? You sure look like one, with all this scruff and the serious face and the eyebrows. Downright intimidating. Well, if someone gets intimidated by eyebrows, that is.” Stiles looked up, shrugging. “I didn’t catch your name, roomie.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Derek managed to get out through gritted teeth. He had the sudden urge to shove one of those books down Stiles’ throat, instead digging his fingernails into his palms until the skin broke.

“Well, what is it then?” Stiles demanded to know, biting his lower lip while doing one of those crooked half-smiles.

“Derek.” He almost growled, his voice deep and animalistic. He glanced up to Stiles again, taking a deep breath, but his roommate just grinned.

“Impressive,” he drawled. Then, a moment later, “You don’t look like a Derek.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t look like a Derek,” he repeated slowly.

“Nah, not at all, dude. That dark hair and those eyebrows just don’t fit a Derek,” Stiles told him, exaggeratingly wiggling his eyebrows at him. “I would’ve taken you for a… Miguel or something.”

Derek nodded slowly, backing out of the room. He leaned against the door the second it closed behind him, exhaling loudly. Inside the room, he could hear Stiles shouting, “What the hell, dude?” but he chose to ignore it, instead making his way outside. This time around, there were hardly any people left in the hallway, but Derek could barely breathe. He felt as if his lungs had shrunk inside his body, hardly letting enough air inside.

He gasped for air when he was outside, stumbling a couple of steps, and then simply sunk down on the stairs until his breathing normalized again. He got up after a few minutes, deciding to go for a walk and searched his pockets for some change to maybe buy a coffee on the way, but of course his wallet was back in the dorm room. After an hour or so of aimlessly walking around he sat down on the grass, his fingers digging into the ground. Jackson was an asshole for not telling him in time, no, not telling Derek was actually reckless. Wasn’t Jackson the one who had told him werewolves had to stick together? He let out a frustrated sigh. To be honest, Jackson was also the one who had told him on numerous occasions that he needed to work on his anger issues, that he couldn’t expect to be living and working around werewolves for all his life. He had a point, sort of. But Derek didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t even gotten a heads-up from him.

 _Because he never really liked you and thought you were an asshole._ Derek shook his head in resignation. Not reason enough for not telling him. There was so much that could have happened, he could have attacked this Stiles guy, could have knocked him out, hurt him, or worse - after all, the guy was invading his room right now with his boxes and books and his constant chatter.

He dug out his phone from his jeans pocket, one glance at the screen telling him he had a couple of texts and missed calls. He didn’t even open the text he got from Jackson, probably some half-assed apology the other werewolf had felt obligated to write. Instead, he tapped his finger on his sister’s name, opening the text conversation with her and reading the new message she had sent.

 

Laura: _I hope you'll have a great start into your new semester. You’re always welcome at home, baby bro, you know that, right? xoxo Laura_

 

Derek shook his head, staring at the text for a moment longer before he turned off the phone screen. Laura’s plan - making him feel guilty for not showing up all summer - didn’t work. He had his reasons and she knew it, she knew he wouldn’t give in so easily. She knew staying away as far as possible was his way of coping with what had happened.

He stayed outside for a little while longer, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers and listening to the constant chatter of people in the buildings around him. It was rather late already; he was almost alone outside except for a couple leaning against a tree a few hundred feet away from him, whispering and giggling. Eventually, they went inside, leaving Derek alone on the lawn. He stared at the sky, willing his wolf to come out for a minute after he reaffirmed himself no one was around anymore. He could almost feel when his eyes started to glow and he took a deep breath, taking in the scents of hundreds of people, of paper, books, and freshly washed clothes. He closed his eyes, concentrating until he could hear Stiles humming to some song he didn’t know. How would he survive this?

For a moment he thought about transferring to some other college - Stanford, Berkeley, somewhere with a higher werewolf population. He got up from the ground, grimacing at the way his jeans stuck to his thighs, and made his way back inside. This was his senior year. He would survive it. Somehow. He grimaced when he heard Stiles singing painfully out of tune, and remembered the text Laura had sent him.

_I hope you'll have a great start into your new semester._

He stopped in front of his dorm room the second Stiles started cursing and only shook his head in resignation as he heard something heavy hitting the ground.

This was not Derek’s idea of a great start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This fanfic is already complete and we're planning on updating Tuesdays and Fridays.  
> "Bohemian Rhapsody" is (of course) a song by Queen.  
> If you find any other music/pop culture/history/TV/whatever references that you feel like we should explain and haven't yet, please let us know.


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](http://imgur.com/ZviGr0u)

 

# Chapter 2

## It wasn’t like Stiles didn’t already know he was socially awkward. He didn’t need Lydia Martin to shove it into his face

 

Stiles watched the closed door with a raised eyebrow. Huh. Had he done something wrong? He knew he talked a lot, obviously, and maybe that had been a little too much for… Derek, was it? But surely, leaving the room without a word was an overreaction.

He sighed and turned back to his boxes, mindlessly sorting through the endless pile of stuff. What he’d said was true, he was a bit pissed about not being able to room with Scott, but once the initial anger had dispersed and he had thought about what it had actually meant to share a room with Scott, he had also sort of been looking forward to rooming with someone he’d never met before. You know, the whole, once in a lifetime college experience thing.

He’d been aware that he and his roommate probably wouldn’t become best buddies right away, but Derek… Stiles grimaced at the book he’d just taken out of a box before putting it up on the shelf above his desk. He’d expected someone… a bit more welcoming? It didn’t help that the guy was incredibly good looking either. Spending all his time with Mr. I’m-going-to-Harvard-on-a-sports-scholarship McCall, who spent at least three hours of his day working out and practicing was bad enough - now he was rooming with this super-grumpy Adonis.

Stiles picked up a pile of books and almost tripped over the corner of Derek’s bed. Cursing, he rubbed his knee where he’d bumped it against the wooden frame. Even the guy’s bed apparently had it out for him. Stiles huffed, increasingly irritated, and put the rest of the books up on his bookshelf. He hadn’t been able to bring many, to his great disappointment, but he did bring his favorites. Which meant that half the shelf was filled with _Harry Potter_ books. Stiles looked at it proudly for a few moments and felt a bit of his anger fade as an idea formed in his head. Harry and Ron hadn’t liked Hermione in the beginning either, right? Stiles would probably have a problem finding a mountain troll for them to kill together, but he was suddenly determined to make Derek like him. It couldn’t be that hard. Stiles was, after all, a very likable guy.

It took him another two hours or so to get everything stuffed into his dresser and nightstand. Like the perfectionist he was, he would probably rearrange everything five more times over the next few weeks, but he was done for the night.

He was sitting on his bed cross-legged, his laptop in front of him with his headphones on, when Derek came back. Stiles wasn’t one of those people blasting their ears with much-too-loud techno music. He didn’t hear Derek come in, but he _did_ hear the door slam shut, much louder than necessary and jumped violently, pulling his headphones off.

“Whoa, dude,” he said, more startled than irritated. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Derek just gave him a dark glare and moved to his side of the room, stubbornly not looking at Stiles as he flopped down on his bed and reached for a book on his nightstand. Stiles leaned forward, squinting his eyes to read the title.

“Huh. I didn’t take you for a literature guy”, Stiles said before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue, cursing silently. He was almost sure the guy would take his comment the wrong way, so he did the only thing he knew how to do, which was probably the worst but hey; he kept talking.

“Not that that’s a bad thing. I love reading you know?” He gestured to the piles of books on the dresser and the shelf. “I just didn’t think you would too…” his mouth broke into a grin, “...hey! We have something in common!” he exclaimed excitedly. A little too excitedly apparently, judging from how his roommate’s expression darkened. “I mean, that’s good, right? That we have things in common?” he tried, raising his eyebrows at Derek.

Derek just grumbled something unintelligible behind his book. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Look, I know you can talk properly. So, please? I’m making an effort here.”

“I said, I’m majoring in Literature,” Derek said, carefully enunciating every syllable.

Stiles blinked. “That’s _awesome,_ dude. Seriously. That would have been my second choice. Actually, I would love to do both. If I was completely out of my mind, I mean. Applied Mathematics is not really made for double majoring,” he said, shrugging.

Derek raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Stiles held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, alright I get it. You’ve reached your limit of words spoken per day. Fine by me. Good talk.”

He put his headphones back on and went back to going through his class schedule for the next day, determined not to look at the other man. He found the interactive campus map, looked up the locations he wasn't sure about, delighted to see that most of his classes were in the building only two courtyards away from the dorm.

When he came back from the shower, Derek was still reading. If he noticed Stiles moving around in the room, he didn’t show it even by the twitch of a toe. Stiles suppressed a sigh, slipping under the covers and turning off the light on his bedside table. He debated on whether he should say good night, but for some reason, he felt like that would be trying his luck. They’d already made _so_ much progress that night, he thought sarcastically. He shouldn’t risk ruining that.

 

***

 

When Stiles’ alarm woke him at 7:30 the next morning, Derek’s bed was empty and made. He snorted. _Of course_ the guy was a neat freak. Stiles knew he was being a hypocrite; he wasn’t the untidiest person himself.

It took another ten minutes for him to manage to get out of bed and into halfway representable clothes before he jammed his laptop and a notepad into his bag and left ten minutes early. He figured it couldn’t hurt to _not_ stand out negatively on the first day of classes.

He stepped out of the building into the courtyard, and shivered slightly. The September sun cast everything in a golden light, but the morning chill made it all too clear that the hottest time of the year was long gone. Stiles looked up at the huge buildings as he walked, taking it all in when he tripped over his own feet and hit the concrete face first, dropping his books.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, slowly getting up and rubbing his elbows. He kept swearing while he gathered up his things and when he stood, he heard a stern female voice chiding him. “Watch it, moron!” He turned and froze when the most beautiful human being he’d ever seen walked by. He blinked as the strawberry blonde girl elegantly slipped past him, her arm hooked around a tall, dark blond guy who looked like he’d just stepped out of an underwear commercial.

“Sorry!” he called after them once he’d remembered to breathe, but they were already out of earshot.

Well. Stiles couldn’t help but feel like punching himself in the face for his clumsiness.

He spent the rest of the way trying to decide whether to be mortified or glad that he probably wouldn’t see the girl again. She was doubtlessly doing something like… Art History. Or English. He pushed the thought from his mind. No need to dwell on the impossible.

Stiles congratulated himself on not tripping again as he slumped down in a chair in the third row of the classroom. It took him a few minutes to get his stuff out and power up his laptop, but then he looked up and found himself staring at the strawberry blonde curls that had called him a moron less than half an hour earlier.

He blinked stupidly at the back of the girl’s head for a moment before sinking down in his chair. As if that would help him one bit if she chose to turn around. His brain resumed its normal operational procedures after a few seconds, and he opened his mouth without even having thought of what to say, when the professor walked in and shushed them so he could start.

Stiles was surprised to find that, only five minutes later, he had almost forgotten about the girl completely. The class was engaging and actually challenging. And hour into it, he was biting his lip, halfway through solving a complicated formula they had been given when the girl’s hand shot up.

The professor raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, and, after a moment, nodded. “Yes, Miss…?”

“Lydia Martin,” the girl supplied confidently, almost sounding bored.

The professor gave her a tight smile. “Well then, Miss Martin. You think you have the correct answer?”

“I do, professor. It’s…”

Stiles found it extremely hard not to gape when she rattled off the solution and her explanation in the same bored tone as before, suggesting the problem had been a piece of cake for her. He immediately felt bad about assuming she couldn’t have been a mathematics major as well and swallowed, hastily scribbling down every word she said.

When the professor dismissed them, Stiles got up and determinedly stood next to her as she packed up her books. Screw the public humiliation she’d witnessed from him. That girl was amazing and he needed to talk to her.

“Hi,” he started, his hands twitching nervously. “It’s… Lydia, right?”

She looked up, her brown-green eyes watching him with disinterest. “What do you want?” she asked and she put away her laptop and stood.

“I… I just wanted to tell that you were amazing. Here I mean- in class, just now.” Stiles swallowed, giving her a nervous smile.

She raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, …?”

“Stiles,” Stiles said hurriedly. At her confused look he added: “That’s what people call me at least. It’s a nickname. I’m not _actually_ called Stiles, but people can’t really pronounce my real name because it’s Polish and…” he trailed off when he noticed that the surprise in Lydia’s expression had been replaced by indifference. “Right, not important,” Stiles said, taking a step back. “Right then. I’ll see you next time.”

He turned around and left before he could say anything more. Not that this conversation could have gotten any more awkward.

 

***

 

The first week of his sophomore year flew by in a whirlwind and Stiles couldn’t believe it was already Friday when he met with Scott in Harvard Yard, both of them flopping down on their backs to enjoy the afternoon sun.

“Dude,” Scott said. “I’m exhausted. It’s only the first week of the new semester and I’m done.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “This is Harvard, Scotty, they’re not gonna throw your degree at you because of your pretty eyes.”

Scott barked a laugh and reached over to smack him, but Stiles quickly rolled out of his reach.

“So, how’s your roomie?” Scott asked. “Still giving you death glares?”

Stiles shuddered. “When he’s there, yeah. I mean, I want to try to get the guy to at least, I don’t know, make conversation from time to time. He’s never there when I wake up in the morning and whenever he’s there in the evening he’s buried nose-deep in one of his books. It’s a little discouraging.” Stiles shrugged.

Scott grunted sympathetically. “Don’t worry, man. He’ll get over it. And if not, you can get a different room next year. Not the end of the world. We could still try to get a room together somehow. It sucks living in different dorms, you’re a way better roommate than Matt.”

Stiles sighed. “I know, dude. It’s just a bit… frustrating. You see, I don’t actually think we would get along that badly. If he would start opening his mouth around me that is,” he added dryly. Scott laughed. “If anyone can make him talk, it’ll probably be you.”

Stiles snorted. “I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.”

Scott laughed. “Aww, you know I love you, bro.”

Stiles just punched him on the shoulder.

 

***

 

By the time the second week had started, Stiles realized he wouldn’t be able to just breeze through this year like he did last year, but had to actually start studying. On Tuesday night, he packed up his stuff and went to the library to get some homework done. He’d never been the type to stay in a library for too long - too quiet - but he figured he should at least pretend to make an effort. It was early evening already, but after a couple of minutes of research he found out one of the bigger libraries was open 24 hours a day, so he packed his things to go there, buying a cup of coffee on his way to stay awake.

He walked along shelves over shelves of books, trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible. He found an empty group of tables in the back corner of the room and slid down on a chair with a quiet sigh. He didn’t mind sitting with other people, but they usually got annoyed by his endless fidgeting and gave him angry looks, so he’d taken to just avoid it. It wasn’t like he could actually make conversation in a library.

He took out his books and started to brood over his calculus homework until he noticed someone sitting down at the other end of the table. He looked up and froze when he saw Derek, an unreadable expression on his face. Stiles gave a hesitant wave. They hadn’t talked much over the last few days - Derek had barely even been in their room over the weekend.

Derek gave him a small nod. Stiles counted it as a victory, even though he still wasn’t sure if Derek’s look meant ‘I am reluctantly going to accept your presence’ or ‘I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth’.

Stiles went back to his homework, but Derek’s presence was distracting him. He wasn’t exactly surprised Derek would choose this table. It still seemed like a coincidence he couldn’t completely ignore.

Quietly, he ripped a tiny piece of paper from his notebook.

_So this is where you vanish to whenever you’re not home?_

 

Stiles folded the paper into a tiny ball and threw it across the table, hitting Derek’s cheek.

The other man looked up abruptly, angrily staring at Stiles, who had shrunk down in his seat. _Sorry_ , he mouthed and pointed at the tiny ball of paper.

Still scowling, Derek picked it up and unfolded it, his frown deepening while he read.

A minute later, the thing hit Stiles temple and he jumped. If he didn’t know better, he would say Derek was smirking.

 

**_Why do you care?_ **

 

Stiles sighed exasperatedly.

 

_You’re making this whole trying to be friends thing really hard for me, you know?_

 

When Stiles sent the message back he suddenly got a bit nervous. Had that been too… straightforward? He watched Derek carefully and his heart sank when the other man furrowed his brows in confusion.

 

**_Why would you want to try to make friends with me?_ **

 

Stiles blinked down at the piece of paper for a full thirty seconds before replying.

 

_Can you stop answering my questions with questions? It’s freaking me out. And why wouldn’t I? We’re roommates. You like books. You can’t be all bad._

 

Stiles wasn’t sure that was a good idea but he figured he didn’t have much to lose in Derek’s case. Stiles’ answer seemed to startle him a bit and he took a long time to reply.

 

**_I like the quiet._ **

 

Stiles was confused for a moment until he remembered his initial question. He was about to make a sarcastic reply but then hesitated. He didn’t want to destroy the fragile ceasefire between them.

 

_Really? It freaks me out a bit to be honest. But I need to get some work done, so…_

****

**_Then I won’t keep you._ **

 

Stiles sighed. At least it was a start. Right?

Derek packed his things, neatly stacking his books into his messenger bag, and left the table without another glance at Stiles. Right.

 

***

 

That night, after he got back from the library, exhausted but proud of actually having accomplished something, he decided to call his dad. Derek pointedly ignored him, even as Stiles asked him if it was okay to call someone, or if he should go outside to do so - he only frowned, propped up on his elbows, and kept reading one of his countless books, his back muscles flexing whenever he turned a page. Stiles was trying not to stare but it was almost impossible; there was a tattoo on Derek’s back, a rather big one actually. The spirals looked simple but it was mesmerizing all the same. It looked almost aesthetic, him lying on his stomach in nothing but his pajama bottoms and a pair of socks, his glasses slightly askew, his hair mussed from running his finger through it, and chewing at his bottom lip in concentration. Almost, Stiles thought, when Derek shot him an annoyed glance.

His dad picked up at the second ring, sounding tired.

“You should be in bed, son,” he told him and Stiles nearly started protesting, before he glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. He definitely should, it was close to midnight and he had an early class the next day.

He brushed it off, though, not wanting to hang up on his dad now that they finally came around to talking for the first time in almost a week.

“How are you?” his dad asked him.

“I… I’m good, Dad. I have tons of homework, but my lectures this semester are really interesting and Scott and I still see each other quite often, even though we’re not roommates anymore. We have time to eat lunch together three times a week. Oh, and today in one of my lectures, there was this girl, _Lydia Martin_ ,” he told him, putting emphasis on her name, “she’s insanely beautiful and a genius.”

He heard his dad laugh.

“That’s not funny, Dad,” he said, pouting until he remembered his dad couldn’t see him.

“So, how’s things back home?”

He sunk back into the pillow while his dad told him some of the latest gossip - apparently there was a new deputy in town (“He’s only a couple years older than you and the other deputies give him a bit of a hard time because he looks so young.”) and the old house in the woods that had been in ruins for years was newly renovated, apparently one of the owners had moved back in. “Do you eat your vegetables?” Stiles asked, “Or do I need to call Melissa to check on you?”

“You don’t need to worry, Stiles,” his dad said, chuckling, “and speaking of Melissa, she invited me to dinner this Friday.” There was something in his dad’s voice that made Stiles smile, he sounded truly excited, so he refrained from making a stupid comment.

“Have fun,” he told him softly, making a mental note to tell Scott they were one step closer to becoming actual brothers.

“So… have you made any new friends?” his dad asked him hurriedly, suddenly wanting to change the topic.

Stiles was about to answer before he paused. There was Greenberg, who sat next to him in Introduction to Calculus, but they hadn’t talked about anything unrelated to college yet, and Isaac, Scott’s new lacrosse buddy, but their only common interest seemed to be Scott.

“Well,” Stiles started, “my roommate, Derek, he’s my friend.”

“No he’s not,” Derek told him from across the room, not looking up from his book. His dad chuckled at the other end of the line.

“Well, Dad, I gotta hit the hay,” Stiles told him before he could comment on his poor social skills and they would have another argument over why Stiles didn’t need any other friends than Scott (his dad didn’t share this opinion) and they said their goodbyes, Stiles promising to call more often before his dad hung up.

“Really, dude?” Stiles said as soon as they ended the call, staring at Derek. “This was totally uncalled for.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek told him with a sigh, but Stiles could have sworn he saw the corners of his roommate’s lips lift for the fraction of a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't read the tags, we decided to change a thing or two about werewolf trivia - so Derek has glasses despite being a werewolf (the reason why he has glasses is that I (honeywolf) have a huge glasses kink when it comes to Derek). 
> 
> Huge thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) for beta reading and to Sunny for the lovely illustration, and, of course, thank _you_ so much for reading!
> 
> In case you want to contact us, find us on tumblr: [mylittlemindpalace ](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)& [honeywolf ](honeywolf.tumblr.com)  
> We will upload Chapter 3 on **Friday**. See you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://imgur.com/qr4f6Dq)

 

# Chapter 3

## annoyance (əˈnɔɪəns): noun - the feeling or state of being irritated; fairly angry or impatient

 

Derek opened his battered copy of John Steinbeck’s _Of Mice and Men_ , running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against his chair. Starbucks probably wasn't the best place to read, not for someone with superhuman hearing, and the music was driving him slightly crazy, but at least he could read in peace here, without Stiles or anyone else bothering him.

He had about five minutes for himself, which he spent mostly drinking his Caramel Latte rather than actually reading, before he could sense a familiar scent.

“Hey, Der,” a female voice said, and a moment later a blonde girl with offensively red lipstick sat down next to him, leaning close to press a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Erica,” he mumbled and gave her a small smile, attempting to continue reading, but Erica snatched the book out of his hand and snapped it shut. “No reading now, Derek. Don't you have something to say to me?”

“Like what?”

“Like... 'we haven't seen each other all summer, I missed you and I'm sorry for not showing up even though it's the second week of college already?'”

Derek raised an eyebrow.

“You think I missed you?” He turned around to Erica, who smirked and gently shoved him with her fist.

“Come on, tell me you didn't miss me without your heartbeat quickening at least a bit,” she said, her smile getting broader. “So, what's your excuse?”

“For what?”

“For not visiting Boyd and me! Wait... you haven't been visiting Boyd without me knowing, right?”

Derek shook his head.

“You know Boyd couldn't keep a secret from you, right? And I've been... busy.”

“With what exactly?”

Derek took a sip of his coffee, rolling his eyes. “I needed time for myself, Erica.”

He looked up to her giving him a small nod, her smile completely vanished. She shook his head – a motion he almost didn't catch – and turned Derek's book around in her hands, her long, red fingernails tapping against the paper.

“And here I was thinking you would have actually made some social contacts,” Erica huffed after a while. “So, where exactly have you been?”

“Rented a small flat of some guy who was spending the summer in Europe. I mostly spent my time in the city, sometimes drove out into the woods,” Derek said, shrugging.

“You're such a hermit,” Erica told him, but her smile was back on her face. “So, did you talk to Laura?”

Before Derek could answer this question, a tall, dark-skinned guy sat down next to them, handing Erica her coffee before shrugging off his jacket.

“Hey, Derek,” he said. “Nice seeing you around again.”

“What took you so long, Boyd?” Erica asked, pulling the lid off her cup.

“Barista's new,” Boyd growled. He turned to Derek. “Is it true Jackson moved in with Danny?” he asked.

“He did not,” Erica said, her eyes getting big with excitement.

“He did. And he didn't tell me until I came back and he was gone,” Derek told her, his voice grave.

“So what, you had an excuse to finally get your own room?” Boyd smirked at him.

“He told me too late.”

“Did he now?” Erica asked, raising her eyebrows. Something was off with the way she spread her lips, the way she shifted in her chair.

“Wait, you knew?”

“Danny might have... convinced Jackson not to tell you until it was too late for applying for a single room,” Boyd said with a sigh and a side glance to Erica. “Thought it would do you good to pair up with someone else instead of spending the semester alone.”

“I can't believe you knew about this,” Derek said, staring at them with furrowed brows.

“We didn't, really. Jackson only told us about a week ago,” Boyd claimed, and Derek could tell he wasn't lying. He took another sip of his Caramel Latte, silently cursing when he almost burned his tongue. Why did everyone want to meddle with his life? Even Danny? He hardly knew this guy except from the couple of times he had been over visiting Jackson.

“So, who is your new roomie?” Erica asked carefully, her voice quieter than usual.

“Stiles. He's a sophomore, a nerd, and an obnoxious little brat,” Derek said with a sigh. And he is everywhere, he added in his mind. Speaking of, Stiles' scent seemed to follow him – he could swear he could smell him.

“Fancy seeing you too, Derek,” a voice said behind him and made him jump. Derek turned around, his eyes widening when he realized it was Stiles standing behind him, clad in a barista uniform, a tray in his hands.

“You... have a job,” Derek stated, his voice low.

“I would have told you, but since you decide to hide in the library all day long and only come back when I'm asleep, I couldn't.”

Derek scowled at Stiles and dared to throw a glance at Erica, who was watching both of them with a huge grin.

“So _you_ are the roomie, then,” she mused, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I'm the obnoxious little brat,” Stiles told her, the corner of his mouth lifting a bit.

Erica stared at Derek expectantly for a moment, pointing her chin at Stiles in a motion so small no one else could see it.

“I didn't mean it like that,” Derek grumbled, scowling at Erica.

“You did,” Stiles said, shrugging. He grabbed Derek's empty mug and put it on his tray. “Anyways, I have work to do. Nice to meet you -” he stopped.

“Boyd. And this is Erica,” Boyd told him with a nod. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Don't hold it against Derek, he can be an asshole at times,” Erica told him, a sweet smile on her lips. “Anyways, want to hang out today after class?”

“Sure,” Stiles nodded, with a side glance to Derek.

Erica told him her room number and smirked when Stiles almost toppled over backwards and could only barely keep the mugs from falling down the tray.

“He's adorable,” she remarked, getting up. “See you tonight.” She bowed down to kiss Derek’s cheek, ignoring his scowl and Boyd only shrugged and obviously had to keep himself from laughing. “You don't even know if I have time,” Derek mumbled.

Erica only glared at him before she and Boyd went outside and Derek thought he could see Erica slipping her hand into Boyd's. Could have been the light, though.

 

***

 

When Derek opened the door to Erica's room, Stiles was already there, sitting on her bed with a bottle of beer in his hand.

“He's underage,” Derek said, making both Erica and Stiles scowl at him.

“This is college.” Erica got up from next to Stiles, lazily stepping over a deck of cards and wrapping her arms around Derek's neck. “Stick-in-the-mud,” she whispered with a tiny smile and pressed her lips against his temple. Her blond locks bounced when she turned around and grabbed another beer from her tiny fridge, opening it with her claws when Stiles didn't look.

“Your favorite,” she told him, slipping a tiny pill into it and handed it over to Derek. Wolfsbane, from the looks of it, Derek thought when he waited for the pill to dissolve.

“Not necessary,” Derek said. “I planned on staying sober.”

“Why are you here then?” Erica asked him and although the first thing he came up with on top of his head was 'because you told me to,' he only shot her a tiny smile and tried the beer instead.

He closed his eyes at the slight burn of wolfsbane on his tongue, but in a matter of seconds his mouth got comfortably numb and the only thing left was the bitter taste of beer on his lips.

They played cards and talked for a while, although Derek let Stiles and Erica did most of the talking. Stiles mostly talked about his friends, Scott and Allison, who had been dating for quite a while now, and about his first couple days of classes (“I can't recall having ever been so enthusiastic about college,” Erica remarked, making Stiles blush. Derek only quietly disagreed with her – he never really stopped being excited about his classes) and eventually the both of them talked about some Calculus professor they both knew since Erica's minor was Maths.

When Stiles' hand somehow got to rest on Erica's knee, she only looked at him and smiled, firmly shaking her head. “Tell me more about this Lydia Martin person,” she told him, gently shoving his hand from her leg.

Derek zoned out when Stiles started to talk about some strawberry blonde girl he had met a week ago. He took a sip of his beer, closing his eyes when the wolfsbane stung his throat, feeling it spreading out in his blood. He let his eyes stay closed for another second or two, when he felt his eyes light up. Erica apparently hadn't thought through handing him wolfsbane spiked beer when Stiles was there. He already had rather poor control for a born werewolf when he was sober, being drunk on wolfsbane made it even worse. Still, when he opened his eyes again he felt relaxed, a certain state of carelessness he could only reach when intoxicated. He smiled to himself, still blanking out what Stiles was talking about and instead, focusing on his body language. Stiles gestured something to Erica, his long fingers formed some obscure shape which had Erica laughing and Stiles smirking. He almost looked bearable like that, almost looked like someone Derek could come to like, with his big eyes and goofy smiles and the way he seemed to constantly lose his balance, always on the verge of falling over, even when sitting.

Boyd joined them after a while and eventually Erica ended up on his lap, curling into his arms. Derek shot them a look, lifting an eyebrow, but the two of them only smirked.

“So, how do you know each other?” Stiles asked at some point. He had left the bed and had sat down next to Derek. “You all have different majors, that's why I'm asking.”

No one said anything for a moment, before Derek answered, “We have similar interests.” Erica and Boyd nodded and continued cuddling and Stiles just shrugged and gulped down the rest of his third beer.

“Don't be so cryptic.”

Derek just glared at him.

 

***

 

“Fuck, I'm never gonna live that down,” Stiles growled when they went back to their own dorm room a couple of hours later. He swayed a little, his shoulder colliding with the wall as he walked next to Derek.

“I totally flirted with Erica,” Stiles said, his hand grabbing Derek's shoulder to not fall over. “I touched her knee, I... oh God, and she only smiled at me and -”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Derek grumbled. Had he really thought that Stiles could be somewhat decent? That he could maybe even like him?

“Look at the stars,” Stiles said, slurring slightly, when they went outside to get to their own building. It was a five-minute walk, only a couple of buildings over, but Stiles stopped every few steps, just to point out random things.

“My mom and I used to sit outside and she would teach me the different constellations,” Stiles told him. “One time we stayed up all night because I wouldn't stop asking questions.”

The way Stiles stared at the sky was almost melancholic, with his brows furrowed and his mouth hanging slightly open. Stiles shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes, dragging his thumb across his skin as if he wanted to wipe away memories.

“Erica's pretty scary, right?” he asked after a moment of oh-so-sweet silence and Derek nodded.

“Yeah, she can be scary sometimes.”

They finally – finally! - reached their building after what Derek felt like must have been hours of talking (on Stiles' part) and nodding and ignoring (on Derek's part) and Derek dragged Stiles up the stairs, so that they could go to sleep. He made sure Stiles found his bed and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into sweatpants. When he came back, Stiles was curled into a ball, still fully clothed.

“It was a bit lame,” Stiles muttered when Derek turned off the light. “Lame but kinda nice. I like your friends.”

Derek didn’t say anything - if he was human, he would probably have some trouble understanding Stiles, since he basically talked into his pillow.

“You can actually be somewhat nice,” Stiles mumbled a while later, and even though the light was already turned off, Derek could see that he was looking at his general direction, his eyes already half closed.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Derek told him quietly. He climbed into his own bed, turning away from Stiles, shaking his head when he heard Stiles muttering, “Dude,” before he heard a snore a moment later.

 

***

 

So he kind of had to accept his fate. Having Stiles as a roommate still wasn’t his favorite option, he wished for Jackson back - it had been uncomplicated somehow, even though Jackson was a dick. But they never had to be careful around each other, never had to be afraid to wake up half shifted or to wolf out in an argument. They had only barely accepted each other on an interpersonal basis, but both of them were werewolves, and it didn’t matter how much of an asshole Jackson was, this had made sharing a room with him so much easier.

Derek had to get up earlier and go to sleep later than Stiles every day, to avoid being seen shifted - sometimes, when his dreams were of the more vivid sort, his claws and fangs would pop out, and since he managed to kick off his blanket almost every night, it wouldn’t take much for Stiles to notice. So he got up at seven every day, went to get breakfast and an extra big latte and was left to wonder how he should survive this sleeping schedule the rest of the semester.

And okay, Stiles was nice to him, actually asked him about his day, which was somewhat refreshing, since Jackson had never really cared much about him, and his taste in music was pretty decent (it would really suck otherwise, since Stiles seemed to be grown together with his headphones), but there was one aspect, apart from the hiding-the-fact-that-he-was-a-werewolf, he wasn’t sure he could take for much longer.

Stiles seemed to be everywhere. Literally. When he was at the library, he usually slid into the chair next to him, claiming the light was better there and that there was this nasty smell in the math section that kinda started to cling to his clothes when he spent some time there. When he was out buying coffee, he would run into Stiles, even though he avoided Starbucks at any time Stiles worked there (and yes, it had taken some digging around in Stiles’ stuff, but he had a copy of his schedule), he couldn’t even eat in peace, since Stiles and his ever-growing group of friends seemed to randomly pop up wherever he was.

“No,” he mumbled, burying his face in his book, “No, you can’t sit here.”

Stiles sat down and grinned widely when Derek looked up. A boy around his age with black hair and a kind of uneven jaw line and a pretty girl with long, dark brown locks sat next to him.

“All the other tables are taken, Derek, it’s not like I do it on purpose.”

Derek raised an eyebrow - so Stiles had noticed the two of them were constantly running into each other.

“Anyways, Derek, meet my best friend Scott and his wonderful girlfriend, Allison.”

The girl smiled sweetly at him, her smile reminding him of _someone_ , and he nodded back. Scott only shrugged, whispering, “Does he talk?” under his breath.

“Yes, he talks,” Derek mumbled, shaking his head and holding up his book. “But right now he is _reading_.”

He looked up again, scowling at Stiles and Scott, both of whom were blushing a bit.

“I also have some catching up to do,” Allison said, taking out her notes and started going through them, not without looking up to Derek once more and winking at him.

“You two,” Stiles said, picking up his tray, “you two are spoilsports.” He stared at them, opening his mouth as if to say something else, but turned around when he got bumped on the shoulder by Scott, who had just spotted an empty table.

“They can be annoying at times,” Allison said a couple of minutes after Scott and Stiles had departed. “Trust me, I know.”

“This… wasn’t necessary,” Derek said. Whatever ‘this’ was.

“Oh, it was. You seem like you need a break. Is Stiles talking your ear off at night? I mean - you look tired.” Allison put down her notes and picked up an apple from her tray instead.

“Something like that, yeah,” Derek said, shrugging. “He’s exhausting.”

“I know. It took me a while to become friends with him, but he’s Scott’s best friend, so I didn’t really have a choice.” She chuckled. “That’s just awful, this sounds like I hate him or something,” she said, brushing back her hair with her hand. “He’s really nice, you know.”

Derek nodded. “We’ll see about that.” He managed to smile and put his book back into his traveler bag.

“So, where are you from?” The girl asked, obviously not yet ready to let go of their conversation. She smelled… genuinely nice, though and she really seemed interested in talking to him, so he lifted a corner of his mouth into a small grin.

“Beacon Hills,” he told her, “a small town in Northern California. You probably -”

“No, I know it,” she said and stared at him with big eyes. “My family’s from Beacon Hills. I moved there a couple of years ago. That’s also where Scott and Stiles are from.” She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head. “Something’s telling me you have been sharing a dorm room with Stiles for almost two weeks and didn’t know that.”

Derek shrugged. He preferred to not listen to half of what Stiles was telling him, so there was a good chance he just didn’t remember it.

“So, Derek, what’s your surname? Maybe our families know each other,” Allison asked him after some time.

He swallowed. The good thing about being away from Beacon Hills was that no one stared at him sympathetically when he would tell strangers outside of town his name, no one would tell him they were just so sorry about what had happened. He wasn’t exactly ready for it to change right now, but… Allison would find out who he was either way, Stiles would find out - it was no use not telling her.

“Hale,” he said, preparing for the response that was about to come.

“You’re… a Hale,” Allison said, her eyes big when she looked up to him. Her voice trembled a little, and she had let go of the apple, instead clenching her hands into fists.

“What-,” Derek started, unsure of what to make out of this. Allison didn’t answer, though, instead staring at him, at his hands, at his mouth, at his eyes. Her gaze stayed there for a long, intense moment, skeptical and somewhat afraid, disbelieving.

“My name,” Allison said eventually, her voice still not steady, “is Allison Argent.”

Derek almost knocked over the table when he leaped to his feet. By the time he reached the door, he breathed heavily, his hands in fists so that no one could see his claws.

_Argent_.

He hadn’t moved all across the country for his past to catch up with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This chapter was again beta-read by [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and Sunny also did the awesome illustration.   
> If you have questions, comments or just want to chat, feel free to leave us a comment or visit us on tumblr: [ mylittlemindpalace](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com) and [honeywolf](honeywolf.tumblr.com).
> 
> See you on Tuesday!


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter 4

## Stiles was _trying_ okay, he really was, but the guy was sure as hell not making it easy

 

So lunch with Derek became… a thing. A relatively regular thing. Stiles sort of hated the word ‘regular’. That word didn’t mean _anything_ if put into context. ‘A relatively regular thing’ could mean anything. It could mean it happened every couple of weeks. Or days. Or months. Or--

Not the point.

The point was that he had lunch with Derek. Sometimes. Occasionally.

They still didn’t talk much. Well, Stiles talked, Derek didn’t. Sometimes Derek had a book with him during lunch and when Stiles tried to talk to him then, Derek glared at him through those ridiculously well fitting glasses of his until he swallowed and shut up, shrinking into his seat a bit.

Sometimes Scott joined them, but then it was mostly Scott and him talking and Derek reading. Stiles kept trying to include Derek in the conversation, but all he got for it was glares and the occasional grunt. It didn’t discourage him though. If anything, it made him more determined to get the guy to talk to them. Him. Whatever.

It was kind of ironic that the first time they actually talked more than two sentences over dinner was when Lydia Martin sat down two tables over and Stiles stared at her for a full minute before Scott poked him in the cheek to get him out of his daze. Out of concern, he said. Fucking liar.

“Dude,” Stiles breathed, staring at Scott wide-eyed. “That’s _Lydia Martin_.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derek turn his head into her direction at the mention of the name but he ignored it. Instead, he told Scott about their last class together when she’d solved this incredibly complicated problem in under five minutes. He talked for five minutes straight before he realized Scott was laughing at him.

“Wow, dude. Not okay. I had to listen to you go on about Allison’s _eyes_ and _face_ and _hair_ for _years_ , and you won’t let me talk about that genius over there for more than five minutes? Rude.”

Scott, at least, had the decency to look mildly guilty. “Sorry, Stiles. Just… Isn’t she the one who rejected you, like, on the first day?”

“That’s not the po-”

“The one who always looks at you like you’re some kind of a… leech or something?”

“Yes, but-”

“No ‘but’, Stiles. She treats you like shit.”

Stiles sighed and turned to watch as her perfectly manicured hand tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and then swatted her boyfriend’s hand away when he tried to steal a fry from her plate.

Stiles huffed and turned back to their table to see Derek watching him with furrowed brows.

“What?” Stiles asked, more surprised than anything else Derek was actively engaging in, well, staring at him, without having been provoked.

Derek furrowed his brows. “Seriously? If she treats you like shit, why are you so hung up on her? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Stiles was momentarily stunned into silence by the sheer… quantity of words leaving Derek’s mouth in a short amount of time.

He blinked. “ _Dude,_ ” he said then, unable to hide his amazement. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me… ever.”

Derek almost looked taken aback.“I just insulted you.”

“No, dude,” Stiles said smugly. “You didn’t.”

Scott looked back and forth between them and shook his head.

“I don’t get you two,” he declared and stood. “I gotta go. Class in ten. See ya!”

 

***

 

Things got a bit weird - well, _weirder_ \- whenever Allison joined them. It only happened a handful of times, but Derek seemed even more tense than usually, even less inclined to talk, and even more immersed into whatever book he was reading. Even though Stiles couldn’t help noticing his eyes seemed to stare daggers into the pages instead of reading them and he barely turned a single page until Allison had left. Huh.

His attempt at asking Derek about it ended in a deep, scary growl which had him flee their room for a couple of hours. He spent the evening at Scott’s playing “Call of Duty” on his roommate’s console instead.

One Monday, about six weeks into the semester, he was having lunch with Allison and Scott (Derek had an Advanced Literature class on Mondays. Stiles may or may not have peeked over his shoulder at his schedule. Once.) when he decided to ask Allison.

“So, Alli,” he started. “What’s going on with you and Derek?”

Scott almost spit out his juice, but Allison’s eyes only widened almost imperceptibly and she swallowed.

Stiles blinked. “Uhm. Sorry, Scotty. Could’ve phrased that better.” He turned to Allison again. “No but seriously. The tension between you guys is like. Like I don’t know, you murdered each other’s family or something.”

Allison just stared at him. “Uuuhm. Well.” She cleared her throat, glancing at Scott who was looking back and forth between the two of them, confused. “Did you… did you know Derek is from Beacon Hills?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I… no, I didn’t.” Stiles blinked. “Now that I think of it, I don’t even know the guy’s last name.”

“His name is… Derek Hale.”

Stiles furrowed his brows. The name seemed familiar but nothing concrete popped up in his head. He shrugged. “So?”

Allison looked down at her hands. “Our… families don’t particularly like each other. Something which happened a few generations back,” she said tensely. “I don’t know the specifics though.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Oh, come on. How should that affect you guys? He’s done nothing but… ignore you anyways. And so have you. Get over yourselves!”

Allison looked up at him, her eyes guarded.

“Maybe,” she said vaguely.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re almost as bad as him, you know? He practically snarled at me when I asked him about it.”

Scott snorted. Stiles glared at him. “I wish you’d stop disliking him so much. Just because he can’t be a fucking unicorn spitting rainbows 24/7 like you, doesn’t mean he deserves you snorting every time I mention him.”

Stiles didn’t know why he was suddenly so upset by Scott’s reaction, but he got up without another word and left the cafeteria.

 

***

 

It took them exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes to make up. Staying mad at Scott for an extended period of time was a matter of sheer impossibility anyway, and Stiles wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

 

***

 

Stiles wasn’t used to being lucky. At all. So when he invited the few people he knew on campus so far over to his dorm’s common room to watch a movie and _Lydia Martin_ showed up it was… a surprise. A _good_ one. Granted, she brought her boyfriend but… she was there. In his dorm. Talking to Allison. Smiling.

“Scott,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on the redhead. “What are they doing here?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh. I invited Aiden, he’s on the team as well. Sorry I should have told y- _oh._ ”

“Yes, Scott. _Oh._ ”

Stiles just kept staring and probably would have continued if Scott hadn’t turned him around and escorted him into the kitchen.

“We’re getting snacks,” he said determinedly and Stiles nodded gratefully.

When they got back, Scott had to catch the three packets of chips Stiles had been holding because he was stunned into silence (and apparently loss of his motoric skills) once again. Because _Derek_ was there. _Derek._ His roommate Derek, whom he’d invited, sure, but who he hadn’t expected to show up in a million years.

That wasn’t it, though. He was standing there, drink in hand, talking (talking?!) to Lydia. Stiles swallowed, unable to not listen to them.

“... I’m doing literature as my second major,” Lydia was saying and if Stiles had still been holding anything he would’ve dropped it by now.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Really? That must be challenging.”

Stiles couldn’t help but feel smug at the look of mild disinterest on his face. If Lydia noticed, she didn’t care.

She shrugged. “It’s working so far,” she said, sipping her drink and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Stiles almost gagged.

“So do you write?” Lydia asked when Derek made no move to continue the conversation.

Derek shrugged, visibly uncomfortable with the question.

“Sometimes.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow in surprise.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes appreciatively trailing up and down Derek’s body not for the first time during the conversation. Stiles suppressed a snort. He couldn’t exactly blame Lydia. Derek was… eye-candy, to put it lightly.

“What do you write? Could I have read you somewhere?”

Derek grimaced. “Some short stories. Poetry.” He shrugged. “No. The few things I published are under a pseudonym.”

Stiles thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. _Poetry_. That was… unfair, really, just _unfair._

Lydia smiled. “A pity. I’d be happy to read something of yours if you ever-”

“Lydia?”

Stiles could _kiss_ Aiden right now. Seriously.

“Yes, honey, what is it?” Lydia asked, slightly annoyed.

Aiden looked from her to Derek and back to her. “Can I talk to you?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and gave Derek one last smile before following Aiden to the other end of the room.

Stiles unfroze the second Lydia turned her back to Derek and walked up to him, furious, but before he could reach him, a hand on his shoulder held him back.

“Thanks for inviting us,” a female voice whispered near his ear, lips almost touching his skin and sending shivers down his spine.

“Erica! I… didn’t know you would come.” He liked Erica. He really did. She was cool and sassy and… okay, she was downright scary the way she sometimes looked at him as if she was a predator and he was prey, but that was not the point. Right now, he just couldn’t deal with her. He needed to talk to Derek, tell him flirting with Stiles’ crush directly in front of his eyes was 50 shades of not fucking okay at all.

“I don’t usually do movie nights,” Erica said, shrugging, “but hey, I can make exceptions. What are we watching?”

“Look, Erica, I need to…,” he looked over his shoulder to where Derek had been a moment ago, but he was already talking to someone else, some short, douchey-looking guy with a beer in his hand.

“Nevermind. We’re watching _Star Wars: Episode IV._ Well, only if that’s okay with you, if not, I have like a million other movies we could watch, _yo_ u know, not that it would matter to anyone, at least I don’t think so…” He trailed off, waiting for Erica to reply, who only smirked, ruffling his hair as she turned around to her boyfriend.

 

***

 

He probably should have known, right?

On screen, Darth Vader was choking somebody to death solely by making a death grip in the air with his hand and Stiles could sympathize with whoever-his-name-was who was currently gasping for air because he kind of felt the same. It wasn’t only because he was squeezed in on the sofa between Scott and his colleague from work, Danny (who may have attempted to flirt with him earlier this evening, but Stiles wasn’t exactly sure; he was never sure if people flirted with him or just found his face particularly funny to stare at) but he had an awesome view to the other sofa, where Derek was currently sitting, talking to Lydia, who played with her hair suspiciously often.

“She’s out of your league, stop staring,” someone said behind him and when he turned around he recognized the douchebag from earlier, currently leaning against the sofa.

“I thought you were over her not being interested in you, Jackson,” Danny mumbled, only to get smacked against the back of his head by Jackson.

“You’re _Stiles_ , right?” Jackson suddenly said, raising his eyebrows.

“So what?”

“I’m Derek’s ex-roomie. Is he driving you crazy too with his attitude?”

Stiles didn’t want to say yes. He really didn’t. Because first of all, roommate-wise, Derek had been decent. He kept his things to his side of the room, he wasn’t loud or annoying, and he had started opening up to him, very slowly, but steadily.

He looked over to where Lydia touched Derek’s knee and Derek talked with his hands in the air, gesticulating while he gave her a short smile.

“Yeah, he’s awful,” he said, staring after Jackson who nodded, clearly satisfied.

 

***

 

He attempted to talk to Derek for about four more times, but every time he tried to get close to him, something else came up. It was pretty late already and some people had headed back to their dorms or to some other party where there was actually a decent amount of alcohol instead of the sorry beer crate and the lone bottle of vodka.

Eventually, he found himself back on the sofa where Scott and a couple of his friends watched _Star Wars: Episode V_. Lydia was back on Aiden’s lap, but obviously trying to make out Derek somewhere, who was - how convenient of him - nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, Stiles,” a tall, curly-haired guy said as he sat down next to him. Stiles rolled his eyes before turning his head to face him. No, seriously. Every time he thought the party couldn’t go any worse, it did.

“Isaac. Didn’t know you would come,” he said with a faux smile on his lips.

“Scott invited me. He said I should make sure to come so that I could meet all his friends, so here I am!”

Stiles nodded absent-mindedly. On the one hand, he almost pitied Isaac and his obvious crush on Scott. Even Allison had already noticed (and talked to Stiles about it, which had turned out to be a very uncomfortable conversation); the only one completely oblivious about it was Scott.

“So, did you know the coach is considering Scott as team captain for next season?” Isaac asked him and Stiles could only stare blankly at the screen and shake his head.

Here was the thing. Isaac probably was a nice guy. No, he was. Also, he was one of those incredibly handsome people who normally didn’t exist outside of Hollywood, but at the same time he looked like a puppy with his curly hair and big blue eyes and the way he tilted his head when he spoke. So yeah, he was nice, adorable even. And he really wanted to like him, since he was Scott’s new best friend and he was practically everywhere Scott was these days. But talking to Isaac was like talking to a living reminder that Scott McCall was the most awesome human being alive. And as much as he liked Scott, he really didn’t need that.

“You should come to our game,” Isaac said, munching on some Cheetos.

“Scott’s awesome, he’s one of our best players, if not _the_ best. You shouldn’t miss out on that.”

“Yeah, I won’t,” Stiles said, patting Isaac’s knee.

He got up the second he saw Derek come back into the common room with Boyd in tow, talking to him quietly. Stiles stalked up to Derek before his roommate could disappear again, waiting for Boyd to leave, his fists clenched.

 

***

 

“That was a _dick move_ , dude!” he exclaimed, poking Derek in the chest.

Derek raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Excuse me?”

“You flirted with Lydia almost the entire evening? The redhead over there? Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek said with a frown.

“Oh come on, seriously?”

Derek shrugged, actually looking a bit… confused. “We just talked about… literature. And writing.”

“ _Exactly_. Dude, poetry? Seriously?” Stiles exasperatedly ran a hand through his hair. “You told her you write poetry,” he muttered under his breath, still shaking his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Derek looked at him, still confused but also increasingly irritated.

“That’s because I _do_ write poetry Stiles. It’s called making conversation.”

Stiles actually had to laugh at that. “Conversation? You? Yeah, right. Cut the crap, Derek.”

Derek actually took a step back.

“Stiles, calm the fuck down,” he said, his voice hard. “She came up to me, not the other way around.” He swallowed, hard. “I was trying not to scare her away. I’ve been told I do that.” He took a deep breath and put down his drink. “I knew you liked her, so I didn’t want to be the reason she left. I’m sorry. Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles was, a third time that evening, stunned into silence as Derek left the room.

“Stiles?” Scott asked carefully. Stiles jumped and turned as his best friend approached and looked at him with concern. “You okay?”

“No,” Stiles replied truthfully.

Scott frowned. “What did you say to him?”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s… nevermind. I’ll go talk to him.”

He left Scott standing there as he walked out of the room to their dorm and reached for his keys before he thought better of it and knocked.

“Derek?”

No one answered.

“Derek, I know you’re in there,” Stiles tried again.

Still nothing.

Stiles sighed and reached for his keys, slowly unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Derek was sitting at his desk, brooding over a book, his glasses on. The only source of light in the room was his desk lamp, casting the desk and Derek’s hands into a golden light. Stiles couldn’t see more than the outline of Derek’s profile against the light, but he didn’t need it to imagine his expression.

“I’m sorry, Derek. That was out of line.”

Derek didn’t react.

“Oh, come one, dude. I’m trying to apologize here.”

There was a long pause before Derek replied. “Why would you want to apologize?” He still had his back to Stiles, but it was a start.

“Because that’s what people do when they fuck up. They apologize.”

There was another long pause before Derek turned around and Stiles could swear he saw something blue sparkle in his eyes for a split second, but he must have imagined it.

“I’m sorry I flirted-”

“No stop, this is not how this works,” Stiles interrupted him, shaking his head. “You did nothing wrong, Derek. I’m sorry I misinterpreted.” He took a deep breath. “And thank you. For… for doing that for me. I really appreciate it.”

Derek nodded stiffly. “Alright.”

Stiles looked at him for another couple of seconds and then stood up. “I guess you’re not coming back out, are you? We’re still watching _Star Wars_.”

Derek hesitated, but then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Stiles gave him a small smile. “Alright. If you change your mind you know you’re welcome to come, right?”

Derek nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good night, Derek.”

“Good night, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) for beta-reading and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) for their amazing illustration and also for beta-reading.
> 
> We would love for you to say hi on tumblr if you like: [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com) | [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, there might be some triggering content in this chapter. We have put the actual trigger warning in the end notes, so that it won't spoil the plot for anyone who doesn't need it. Stay Safe!

[ ](http://imgur.com/rKcNXif)

# Chapter 5

## Personal space (ˈpɜrsənəl speɪs): compound noun - the physical space immediately surrounding someone, into which encroachment can feel threatening or uncomfortable

 

When someone slid into the seat next to him, Derek didn’t even bother to look up. Instead, he continued outlining his essay on postcolonial literature, jotting down a couple of bullet points on the things he wanted to focus on and pushing back his glasses with his index finger. He dug in his bag for a highlighter when the person next to him cleared their throat and Derek turned his head for the first time.

“We need to talk. I told Stiles, but I’m not sure if he told you, but we really need to talk, Derek.”

Derek glared at the brunette girl, baring his teeth and fighting against the urge to shift into his beta form. They were in the middle of the library; he couldn’t sprout hair and fangs amidst a number of college students unaware of the supernatural.

“Talk,” he told her through gritted teeth, moving back with his chair to make some space between them. Allison gave him an uneasy smile, clasping her hands together.

“You should know that I’m not an active hunter,” she started and from what Derek could hear, this wasn’t a lie. He lifted an eyebrow, staring at her skeptically until she continued.

“I just… I only learned about what Kate has done a couple of years ago when my dad chose to give up hunting. We moved back to Beacon Hills, I received some basic training, but that’s it. We didn’t have anything to do with it. It was all her.”

Derek nodded. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked her, his voice harsh.

“Because apparently we have to get our shit together. For Stiles. He’s friends with both of us-”

“He’s not my-,” Derek started, but Allison only shook her head.

“He’s friends with both of us and he’s your roommate, and you have the tendency to run into each other on campus, so we will see a lot more of each other over the next couple of months. I’m not saying we should become friends. I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either, Argent,” Derek said, snarling.

“But we should call it a truce. You won’t do anything you will later regret and I will not be your enemy,” she said, cocking an eyebrow.

“It’s my fourth year of college, _Allison_ , I’ve so far managed to lie low and to not bother anyone, what makes you think I would now?”

“Well, then, it’s settled, isn’t it?” She waited for his response until he nodded and so she got up from her chair, picking up her bag from the table.

“Be careful around Stiles. It’s incredibly difficult to keep stuff from him,” she said before she turned around, not waiting for an answer.

 

***

 

His phone buzzed for the third time that day and Derek still didn’t want to pick up. He knew who it was without even looking at the screen. Only one person had the nerve to call him when he had class.

He went back to his room, for once hoping Stiles was there, so he would have an excusefor not calling her back - they wouldn’t be able to talk freely when there was a human nearby, and whatever Laura had to say to him wasn’t really any of Stiles’ business. But of course, this time when Derek opened the door to their room, he was alone.

Fuck this.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed Laura’s number. It wasn’t like she would stop calling any time soon, so he’d better get it over with.

His sister picked up after the first ring, and Derek was torn between being glad and mildly frustrated - he had hoped she wouldn’t pick up at all, or that she would take her time so he could at least think about what to say to her.

“Derek?” Laura asked, and Derek imagined her face lighting up, the way it always did when she saw him.

“You called,” he told her quietly.

“I already gave up hope you would pick up or call back,” she admitted, chuckling.

Derek said nothing; he didn’t know what he was supposed to answer. That he was equally surprised he got around to calling her? That he didn’t know why he had called her because, let’s be honest, was there anything left to say?

“How are you?” Laura asked softly after waiting for him to speak.

“I’m…” Tired. Exhausted. Constantly on the verge of losing his temper. Not in control of his wolf. Annoyed. He settled for, “Fine”.

“That’s great then. Still rooming with… what was his name again? Jake?”

“Jackson. And no, he moved in with his best friend. I have a new roommate now.” He paused for a moment. “He’s human.”

They talked about Stiles for a while, well, that is, Laura asked him questions about Stiles and Derek answered them, assuring her that yes, he was fine with Stiles being a human, yes, he was in control, yes, they got along.

It was funny how easy it had become to lie to her when she couldn’t rely on hearing his heartbeat.

“You haven’t called me three times today to make smalltalk,” Derek said and heard Laura sighing in the background.

“Is it so awful to talk to me?” she asked him, and if Derek could see her right now, her smile would have probably been wiped from her face.

“No,” he told her, because it was true. He missed her, for God’s sake, but she reminded him of everything he didn’t want to be reminded of, of a home which didn’t exist anymore.

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Laura asked him and she was asking something completely different, asking him to come home, back to Beacon Hills. It hurt, hearing the pleading in her voice, so he almost hung up.

“I’m not going back to Beacon Hills,” he told her quietly, so that she could not hear his voice trembling.

“It’s different now, Derek. You haven’t seen the house, you-”

“I said no.” He squeezed his eyes shut. The mere thought of going back there, to the old house, back to the town he tried to get away from, back to the memories he never wanted to revisit again, made him sick.

“Please,” Laura said after a while of both of them listening to each other breathing.

Derek just shook his head, aware she couldn’t see him, and hung up.

 

***

 

Later, when Derek got into bed, he was lulled in by Stiles’ chatter from across the room, but he chose to ignore him, instead rolling over to face the wall, trying to sleep. He was tired, incredibly so, and this time, he didn’t care if Stiles was still awake, but it was close to the full moon and he needed all the energy he could get to make it through the day. He blindly reached for his phone, setting his alarm for the next day, and closed his eyes. He sighed - he should stay up. It was risky like this, but… he couldn’t. He really couldn’t. His whole body hurt from two weeks of never sleeping longer than about five hours, Erica had started to call him Edward because of the circles under his eyes (even Stiles had called him Edward once, and Derek had been so close to telling him that he was a werewolf, not a vampire).

Sleep didn’t come easily so close to the full moon. His senses were heightened - he heard one guy three rooms over snoring, he smelled the peanut butter cups Stiles had stored in his bedside table and the cheap detergent he used to wash his clothes with; a smell he could normally ignore now burning his nose. Someone sang under the shower, loudly and out of tune, and Derek wasn’t even sure which building this someone was in, it sounded far away, but Derek could still understand every word.

He covered his head with the blanket despite the warm air coming in from the tilted window (Derek preferred to sleep with the windows closed, but Stiles claimed he couldn’t), but it was only about ten p.m. and all around him the students were still up, studying, drinking, watching TV in the common room, and overall being noisy. It took long for him to finally fall asleep; he spent about half an hour listening to Stiles typing on his laptop, interrupted by a yawn every couple minutes.

 

***

 

When sleep finally overpowered him, it wasn’t the deep, dreamless sort Derek had wished for. It wasn’t the relaxing kind which had him rise and shine in the morning, bursting with energy; instead it was the kind of sleep that eventually woke him up in the middle of the night, sweating and feeling like he had been poisoned with wolfsbane, the insides of his hands sticky with blood from where his claws had dug into the skin.

The second time he fell asleep he passed out simply due to exhaustion, falling back onto his way too hard pillow, covering himself with his infuriatingly warm blanket and sinking into his saggy mattress, his pajamas sticking to his skin. The last thing he noticed after checking his phone for the time - 2 a. m. in the morning - was Stiles talking something unintelligible in his sleep, his limbs sprawled out all over the bed, on the verge of falling down.

Then, suddenly, there was smoke in his lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. He opened his eyes, but he found himself surrounded by darkness, _blackness_ , unable to see a thing. A tremor went through his body when he choked on the smoke, and he tried to scream, call out for help, but not one sound escaped from his lungs. His heart pounded in his chest when he reached for his shirt and put it over his face, but it didn’t really help with breathing.

When he heard the screams for the first time, they felt like a dagger stabbing into his heart. He stumbled forward, blind, gasping for air, trying to make out which direction the screams came from, but every time he moved, they changed directions until they surrounded him, coming closer, becoming louder, more desperate. Derek opened his mouth to tell them he was on his way, to ask them what was going on, but the louder he shouted, the louder the screams got, until all he could hear were the ear-piercing cries of people around him.

They sounded like they were in indescribable pain, in agony. They sounded as if they were dying. He felt hands sliding over his skin, blunt nails and claws digging into his flesh, tearing on his clothes, desperately trying to get a hold of him. A pair of hands clung onto his arm and through the smoke he could smell someone familiar, an old, almost forgotten smell of family.

“Can you hear them?” a voice whispered into his ear, lips connecting to his skin and hot breath against his neck making him shiver. The darkness dissolved and he was staring into another pair of eyes, green, wide open and full of mischief. Fingers brushed over his face, a thumb rested against his lower lip, forcing his mouth open and an instant later, a mouth collided with his and he could taste the sweet, artificial flavor of lip gloss.

“Let go of me,” Derek growled, pushing her away. She only shook her head, her hands still caressing his face, tracing over his features, fingers running through his hair and nails scratching over his scalp in a way that made a shiver run down his spine.

“I will never let go of you, sweetie,” she cooed, her smile broad and he could almost believe it was genuine. “You’re way too special, Derek.” Suddenly she was next to him, taking his hand into hers and leaning onto his shoulder. He tried to fight her off, but his body disobeyed him, instead interlacing their fingers, squeezing her hand.

“How does it make you feel?” she whispered, a sly smirk on her lips.

“What?” he asked.

“To see them burning.”

For a moment, Derek wasn’t sure what she was talking about, until he noticed the flames surrounding them. She broke out into a laugh, turned around to fling her arms around his neck, and kiss him. Around them, the world was burning.

Derek found the strength to fight her off the moment he could hear the screams again, and this time, when desperate hands tried to get a hold of him, he could see them, the half-burned bodies crawling on the floor, screaming hoarsely. One of them was staring at him, a woman, her hair in flames, skin melting around her hollow, wide eyes.

“Mum,” he gasped and lunged forward, but Kate held him back.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she told him, her voice light and carefree. “You killed them already.”

Her grip fastened.

“Let me go!”

_You killed them._

Her nails changed into claws, tearing his skin apart.

_You killed them._

She grinned at him, cocking her head.

“Oh, Derek.”

“Get away from me,” he snarled, but she shook her head.

“How could I? You’re the one who’s holding me.”

_You killed them. Youkilledthem. Youkilledthemyoukilledthemyoukilledthem._

“Derek!” Kate screamed, but then it wasn’t Kate anymore, it was his mother, stretching out her arms.

“Go away,” he told her, this time desperate, “I killed you. I’m so sorry.”

“Derek!”

“Go away!”

He pushed her away and the moment his hands collided with her body, he felt like he could breathe in again, the smoke dissolving.

“Dude, not necessary,” a voice said, and it was most definitely not his mother.

Derek was on the verge of opening his eyes, but he could feel he was almost completely shifted, could feel his fangs, his claws, and his glowing eyes. He squeezed his lids shut and curled his fingers into fists, willing for his werewolf features to disappear and only opening his eyes when he was sure they were their normal, green and brown color.

“What?,” Derek muttered, his heart still pounding wildly. Next to him Stiles got up from the floor, bending over him.

“What the hell, dude,” he said with a frown, scratching the back of his head. “You almost sent me flying against the wall.” His eyes were wide and Derek could hear his heart beating fast.

“What were you doing?” Derek asked, his voice harsher than intended.

“I… sorry, you sounded like you were, I don’t know, being tortured or something,” Stiles said, his eyes wide. “I thought it would be better to wake you.” His roommate ran his hands through his sleep-tousled hair nervously.

“I had a nightmare.”

The sentence hung between them for a moment and Stiles swallowed, nodding. Something in his eyes was knowing, as if Stiles only knew too well about nightmares. Not that it mattered, though. Nothing mattered right now, except for the anger in his stomach, his prickling fingernails which would change into claws any second.

“No shit,” Stiles mumbled, still standing next to his bed. “Need anything?”

Derek didn’t react to Stiles’ question; instead he leaped to his feet, his blanked carelessly falling to the ground.

“Out of my way,” he growled.

He had to get out. His wolf was strong right now; he was angry and hurt and growling on the inside, wanted to attack, to _kill_ -

“What the hell?” Stiles shrieked, but Derek was already out of the door.

 

***

 

He couldn’t remember running down the stairs or getting out of the building, but somehow he ended up on the other side of the campus, panting, when he sank down on the grass. This had been a fucking close call. One second longer in the room with Stiles, and his wolf would have been out of control. Derek looked up to the sky; the moon was almost full. This full moon, he couldn’t just hang out with Jackson and make it one of those rare nights they actually talked to each other. This time, he had to get away - there was no way he could spend the whole night without shifting into his beta form, not when he was so… emotional.

Derek scolded himself for letting the moon have such a strong pull on him this time. It hadn’t been since… since his last big argument with Laura that he had been this unstable.

When he got up and started walking back - this time slowly and with controlled breaths to calm down - he realized he had been dreaming about the fire. About _her_. Kate. The sole reason for his instability, for his inability to open up to people. She was the reason he killed them all.

He stopped to take a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. He could do it. He had to. He had to go back to his room, go to sleep again and forget about all this. Forget about the dream. About his mother, screaming his name. He had to forget, to push those thoughts back into the backmost corner of his mind, but who was he kidding? He wouldn’t forget. Some things would haunt him forever.

He found himself back inside, standing in front of his room, his skin cold and goose bumps spreading on his arms. Stiles was awake; he could hear the kid’s heart beating fast, mumbling something unintelligible. Derek sighed. He wouldn’t be in this state right now without Stiles. There was nothing either of them could do about it - Stiles didn’t know any better and he couldn’t just stop being _human_ , being clueless and vulnerable. Part of him wanted to just tell him, for convenience, just to make his life a bit less complicated. He knew he couldn’t, of course. Humans didn’t take the supernatural very well. And Stiles sure as hell wouldn’t want to be roommates with a werewolf.

He opened the door to the younger guy scowling at him, his face only lit by his phone screen.

“What the fuck was that, Derek? You _growled_ at me. I almost cracked my skull because I was trying to wake you up and...” He shook his head. “You kinda scared me.”

“I had to get out,” Derek said quietly, sitting down on his bed. He felt better than before, but he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep any time soon.

“What were you dreaming about?” Stiles said suddenly, putting his phone away. His gaze was steady and intense even in the dark.

“None of your business.” He didn’t want to go there again. Revisit the fragments left from it. The darkness. The screams. Kate forcing herself on him. His mother, her face melting away.

 _You killed them_.

“You screamed. And you wouldn’t wake up. I had to practically crawl on top of you and shake you awake.” Stiles’ voice was steady and low, and Derek watched him lie down, facing the wall.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, meaning it. He wouldn’t have been able to bear another second of this nightmare.

Stiles didn’t answer, just hummed sleepily.

“Fire,” he said eventually, his voice breaking the silence. “I dreamed about fire.”

Stiles didn’t answer immediately; he turned around, rolled onto his other side until he faced Derek again. He looked at him for a couple of seconds, not saying a word.

“I used to dream about hospitals,” he told him eventually, his voice merely a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***  
> Trigger Warning:  
> Derek has a quite vivid nightmare about the fire and Kate. The scene starts with the sentence: "When sleep finally overpowered him, it wasn’t the deep, dreamless sort Derek had wished for" and the intense part of it ends with Stiles saying "Dude, not necessary". We might be overdoing it with this warning, but we thought, better safe than sorry.  
> ***
> 
> [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle)'s and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com)'s beta-reading skills saved our lives and Sunny's illustration is amazing as always.
> 
> If anyone wants to say hi on tumblr: [ Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com) and [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a trigger warning (panic attacks) for this chapter, it's nothing bad, but please proceed with caution. If you feel triggered by panic attacks, read the end notes for more details.

[ ](http://imgur.com/J2eopQE)

# Chapter 6

## Stiles should probably just give up on trying to figure out Derek Hale. It wasn’t like his life wasn’t complicated enough without his roommate giving him a death-stare.

 

So, Stiles knew snooping after his roommate’s family history wasn’t exactly good form, but what was he supposed to do? If he had to live with someone who could crack Stiles’ skull against a wall in his sleep, he at least deserved to know why, right? It wasn’t like Derek was going to tell him anytime soon.

It was a surprisingly sunny afternoon for the end of October and Derek had been gone for hours. Stiles had noticed this about him. Whenever the weather was good he would stay out longer. Outdoorsy and all that.

Stiles took a deep breath and typed ‘Derek Hale’ into Google and held his breath as the crappy campus wifi loaded the results. He gave up browsing them a couple of minutes later. Too many Hales, too many business profiles. He leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his hair and then froze mid-movement. What if…?

Slowly, he brought the cursor back to the search field and added the word ‘fire’ to Derek’s name.

The first two results were for a David Hale in the Fire Department of Los Angeles. And then came the newspaper articles from… six years ago?

Stiles swallowed and opened the first one with the headline “ _Fire destroys Hale property_ ”. He felt the blood drain from his face as he was reading. He remembered that fire. He just hadn’t made the connection. He clicked himself through a couple more articles. “ _Hale fire suspected Arson_ ”, “ _Arsonist still not behind bars_ ”.

Stiles leaned back in his seat. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. Nine casualties. Three survivors. Derek, sixteen years old. His sister, Laura, who’d just turned eighteen. And their uncle Peter, in a coma.

Stiles buried his face in his hands. It all made so much more sense now. Well, not all of it. He doubted there was anyone on the planet who could make sense of all things Derek Hale, but it made… more sense. It also created some new questions in Stiles’ head but he ignored those for now.

He saved some of the articles for later and shut down his laptop. He needed to go see Scott. His mind would burst if he didn’t get a distraction soon.

 

***

 

“I still don’t get why you put up with him,” Scott said, turning on his Xbox. Stiles shrugged and once again wondered why Scott’s room was so much bigger than Derek’s and his - he even fit a TV in there. But well - Scott’s roommate was a total creep, who apparently had the hots for Allison and never left the room without his camera.

“He’s nice, okay?” Stiles said, picking up the controller. He really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. He wanted to shoot zombies with his best bro, get his mind off things, not talk about Derek. Again.

“He isn’t nice. I like nice people. He’s… totally closed off and rude and his eyebrows are unnerving.” Apparently Scott’s idea of bro time was different from Stiles’.

“Scott. For the love of everything holy to you, let’s play “Call of Duty”, and you can talk about how awesome and perfect Allison is and how awesome and perfect sex with Allison is, just shut up about Derek. I know you don’t like him. I do. End of discussion.”

Scott swallowed.

“Have you noticed Alli’s hair lately? I think it shines even more than usual,” he said after a moment.

Stiles smirked and for a tiny moment asked himself if it was a bad thing to love his best friend for being so predictable sometimes.

 

***

 

When Stiles got home the next day after class, he found Derek in their room staring daggers at the ceiling. It was raining outside - Stiles figured that was the only reason Derek was even here.

“Hey, Derek,” he said cheerfully and threw himself on his bed. “What’s the wall done to you?”

Stiles saw something in Derek’s jawline move and his mouth looked tense, like… like he was trying really hard _not_ to open it, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and Stiles shrugged it off.

“Okay, don’t talk to me then, fine,” Stiles muttered and reached for his laptop and headphones. He wasn’t all that bothered by Derek’s silence, really. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the fire and he was a bit worried he was going to accidentally bring it up in conversation. Because that was a thing with him. His brain-to-mouth filter was practically non-existent.

Stiles started sorting through his lecture notes, occasionally glancing at Derek but the other man didn’t move. It wasn’t until a few hours later, when the sun had gone down, that he bolted upright, making Stiles jump, and stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Stiles blinked at the door, perplexed. “Right,” he said then and went back to his notes, trying to get his thoughts to stop circling around his roommate. He managed eventually and deeply immersed himself in orthogonal vector equations. When he finally closed his laptop and turned his music off, he realized it was already past midnight. _Way_ past midnight.

He looked over at Derek’s empty bed and felt a sudden twinge of worry. He shook himself. Derek was an adult male. He could handle himself at night on the streets.

Stiles stepped over to the window and gave the full moon looming over the courtyard a long look before closing the curtains and climbing into bed.

He woke up more than once that night, but Derek’s bed stayed untouched.

 

***

 

Derek still wasn’t there when Stiles woke up the next morning (it was a Saturday), but he ignored the worried voice in his head. He’d probably just spent the night somewhere else. A woman’s place maybe. To get all that anger out or whatever.

Stiles went to take a shower before going back to studying on his bed.

Derek came back around noon.

Stiles was about to feel immensely relieved (for no reason at all, he told himself), until he saw the state Derek was in.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?”

He looked terrible. He still wore the same clothes as yesterday and they were… ripped in some places? Stiles shuddered. He also had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was in complete disarray, and not in the attractive way.

Derek just growled at him - the growling was another thing; people didn't _growl,_ did they? - and stripped his torn shirt and jeans off before crawling under the covers. At least Stiles didn’t see any bruises. Not that he was _checking_ or anything.

“I… do you need anything?” he asked carefully.

Derek didn’t reply, just pulled the blanket over his head.

Stiles sighed. “I’ll be right next to you if you change your mind.”

The pile of blankets next to him didn’t react, so he went back to his own bed and stared at his laptop without doing anything. Living with Derek was getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

 

***

 

Derek didn’t make another sound until about five hours later when he got up and went to take a shower. He didn’t speak a word when he came back, just hid under his blankets again. He did look better though, so Stiles didn’t say anything.

Derek didn’t leave his bed for the rest of the day and Stiles only left briefly to grab something to eat before he went back to his studying. He had a midterm coming up in a week and felt the inexplicable need to be at least as good as Lydia. That, apparently, was enough motivation to work his ass off.

It was, again, after midnight when he closed his laptop and settled in to sleep, thoughtfully watching the shape in the bed next to him before dozing off.

It felt like less than an hour later when Derek was thrashing in his bed, clawing at something invisible and panting and-

Stiles got out of bed and sat down on Derek’s, on the side where he wasn’t currently fighting off an imaginary enemy.

“Derek,” he said calmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Wake up, Derek, it’s me.”

He jumped back when Derek lashed out at him and swore under his breath. “Wake the fuck up, Derek! It’s not real, it’s just a dream.”

Derek’s eyes suddenly opened wide and glistened blue against the light of the moon shining through the curtains before he squeezed them shut again and he stopped thrashing, putting his hands over his eyes. Stiles stood there, frozen for a few seconds, before he carefully approached the bed again and sat.

“You with me?” he asked quietly, watching as Derek slowly nodded.

Stiles exhaled shakily. “Good. Great.” He stood and grabbed his pillows off the bed, arranging them at the foot of Derek's bed, so he could lean against the wood without hurting his back.

And then he waited. He waited until the legs pressed to his stopped shaking and until Derek pulled his hands away from his face and until Derek finally sat up and looked at him.

He expected glaring. Or snarling. Or growling.

Derek just looked incredibly tired. He gave Stiles a long look and then huffed.

“I won’t get rid of you, will I?” he asked, his voice raw from screaming into his pillow.

Stiles shook his head. “Nope.” He paused. “So,” he started unsure of how to breach the subject. “Fire, huh?”

Derek gave him a long look and nodded. “Yeah, I…” he swallowed and then seemed to make a decision. His back straightened almost imperceptibly before he continued. “When I was sixteen, my family’s house was… burned down.” He swallowed again, like he was choking on the words. “Only two others survived.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Fuck, I… I’m terrible at this, just so you know. But I’m so sorry, Derek.”

Derek looked down at his hands and didn’t say anything more, but Stiles could see his Adam’s apple bob against his throat.

So Stiles decided to talk.

“My mom died when I was 10,” he said quietly, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. “Brain tumor. She was in a coma for three months before she went. I spent every free minute at the hospital.” He swallowed, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. This wasn’t about him, it was about Derek.

He could feel him watching, but he kept his eyes glued to his hands. “I was… in a bad place after that. My dad started drinking. I had nightmares. Panic attacks.” He took a deep breath. “I still get them, occasionally.”

He looked up and met Derek’s eyes. He was watching him, not irritated for once. “Does it get better?” he asked quietly.

Stiles thought about it. “No,” he said then, thinking it was what came closest to the truth. “You just get better at dealing with it.”

Derek nodded, a certain guardedness in his eyes which hadn’t been there a moment before.

Stiles decided to just continue. “Scott was a huge help. He’d be the one to wake me up from nightmares and hug me until I stopped crying.” Usually he’d be embarrassed to talk about that, but he figured Derek was hardly the type to tease him about it.

“It took me a while to be able to remember the good things without, I don’t know, feeling like I’m suffocating. But by now… it actually helps. Remembering how she sang to me when I was little and what she used to cook for me when I came home from kindergarten and something had upset me.” Stiles shrugged, staring into the distance. “It… it doesn’t hurt any less, but at some point I just realized being angry at the world about something I couldn’t have changed neither helped me nor her. So I decided to remember the good-- Derek?”

Derek’s eyes were wide open and he was fisting his hands in the sheets, breathing loudly. “Whoa, no, Derek, no, breathe,” Stiles said and scrambled forward, carefully not to touch him. “Look at me,” he said calmly, waiting until Derek’s eyes found his. He wasn’t even surprised at the shining blue color, but filed it away for later. “Is it okay for me to touch you?”

Derek blinked and then nodded, almost hastily. Stiles smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Keep your eyes on me, okay? And breathe, breathing is important. Breathe in and count to seven in your head with me okay? One, two,...” Stiles kept counting until they’d reached seven and then squeezed Derek’s shoulder encouragingly. “Okay, now exhale and count to eleven alright? One…”

By the third round he could feel Derek relax fractionally and sighed, relieved. He sat against the head of the bed and wrapped his arm around Derek’s shoulders. The fact that he didn’t even try to object was indication enough of his state and Stiles’ chest tightened at the thought. Derek sacked against him and closed his eyes, his head resting on Stiles collarbone.

“Go to sleep,” Stiles whispered.

“You really don’t need -”

Stiles shook his head. “I really do, Derek. You’re shivering.” He gently placed his hand on Derek’s chest.. “Your heart’s still racing. I’m not going anywhere unless you explicitly tell me you want to be alone.”

Derek stayed silent and Stiles waited until his breathing had evened out enough to know he was sleeping before he closed his eyes let himself drift off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****  
>  **Trigger Warning** : Derek has a panic attack in this chapter. We tried to include as little triggering content as possible, but if you don't want to read it, just leave out the paragraph starting with: "He jumped back when Derek lashed out at him" and start reading again at "By the third round he could feel Derek relax".  
> A short summary for the paragraph - Derek has a panic attack and Stiles tells him that he also had panic attacks when his Mom died. Derek tells Stiles about the Hale fire and that only two other people survived.  
> ****
> 
> Thanks for reading and for your kudos and comments! As usual, our friend [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) did the amazing illustration and again thanks to Sunny and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) for beta-reading. 
> 
> If you want to say hi or follow us on tumblr, here you go: [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com) | [ Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

[ ](http://imgur.com/gAm9kRV)

# Chapter 7

## friendship (ˈfrɛndˌʃɪp): noun - a state of mutual trust and support

 

Derek woke up to the rumbling noise of raindrops hitting the window and a warm body pressed against him, arms wrapped tightly around him. He blinked - it was still rather dark as his eyes tried to focus, his old poster of Edward Hopper’s _Nighthawks_ nothing more than a series of dull colors, blurred together. He turned his head and his nose immediately hit Stiles’ forehead, who started stirring, frowning a bit, but not waking up completely.

“Dude, stop moving,” Stiles mumbled, half asleep, morning breath hitting Derek, before his roommate’s body went slack again and he continued sleeping, one leg sprawled over Derek’s hips, head on his shoulder, not letting go of him.

It was less weird than waking up in a bed with your roommate sleeping almost on top of you should feel like, but then again, Derek was used to weird. He was used to his sister’s need to cuddle, to cling onto him the whole night long. Werewolves were prone to be tactile, to crave physical contact, and even though Derek wasn’t the most typical werewolf in this regard, he found Stiles sleeping atop of him (and almost suffocating him the way his arms were wrapped around his ribcage) comforting. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes again, going back to that cozy state between sleep and awareness, enjoying the warmth of his bed and not thinking about what led to Stiles’ decision to not let him sleep alone.

The next time he woke up, the rain had stopped and the pressure against his chest had decreased. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes, not fighting the overwhelming power of sleep he could feel in every cell of his body, pinning his limbs against the mattress and making his eyelids too heavy to open them. It was warm, perfectly warm, the blanket wrapped around him like a second skin, his pillow soft as he sunk his head back again, and the campus was comfortably quiet; it was too early for most students to be up. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, giving in into the warmth of another body and listened to the steady heartbeat of his roommate, _thud-dub, thud-dub._

The third time he woke up, it was because a finger constantly poked into his cheek and Stiles was shifting next to him trying to get out of Derek’s arms.

“Dude, stop digging your fingernails into my skin,” Stiles muttered quietly, trying to elbow his way out. When Derek opened his eyes, it was to Stiles letting out a relieved breath.

“Dude.”

Derek nodded slowly, blinking.

“Your fingernails. Stop it. It hurts.”

Derek nodded again, retracting his arms and rolling away from Stiles.

“Thank-” Stiles started, staring at Derek’s hands.

Fuck. Claws. He was staring at Derek’s _claws_. Derek clenched his hands into fists and willed himself to shift into fully human form, making a point to awkwardly run his fingers through his hair when he felt the blunt edges of his fingernails against his skin.

“What?” he asked, frowning at Stiles in faux confusion.

“Nothing,” the younger man told him, shaking his head. “Must have been the light.”

The two of them stayed quiet for a moment, Stiles rolling onto his back, shaking his head in a miniscule motion and rubbing his eyes.

“So… you okay?” he asked Derek after a while.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You know, it was no big deal, Scott used to do this all the time when I was younger, the hugging me until I fell asleep thing.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, his voice trailing off so it sounded more like a question.

“As I said, no big deal.”

“Yeah, you said so.”

“So, I wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler,” Stiles told him after a minute or so of mutual silence, fidgeting with the blanket.

“I… You were warm. It’s perfectly normal behavior.”

Stiles nodded, not saying anything, but he curled his lips before he turned his head away, snorting.

“So… what are your plans today?” Stiles asked him, his voice light.

“Don’t even pretend you don’t know my plans for the weekend, Stiles,” Derek growled. He had caught the younger man peeking into his day planner a few times. If he was trying to be subtle, well, he hadn’t succeeded.

Stiles only rolled his eyes, a smile spreading on his lips.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? It’s only -” he bent over to grab his phone from next to his bed, “seven in the morning, you never study before nine.”

Derek nodded. “Are you getting at?”

“Wanna go to Starbucks? Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t crave some freshly made, overpriced coffee in an iconic paper cup with your name on it.”

He climbed out of the bed, grabbing his jeans and a t-shirt without waiting for Derek’s answer.

“Dibs on the bathroom,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head amusedly when Derek rolled his eyes.

“Okay,” he said after Stiles closed the bathroom door behind him. After all, who was he to say no to coffee?

 

***

 

Half an hour later Derek wished he had stayed in bed instead.

“A _caramel latte_? Are you serious?” Stiles asked him, his whole body shaking with laughter. The hipster couple next to them watched him with skeptical glances, but not even Derek’s death-glare could stop Stiles from laughing.

“Shut up, you got a Frappuccino. At 7:30 in the morning.”

Stiles only lifted an eyebrow, shrugging as they navigated to a more secluded area.

“Well, I don’t have a bad boy image to lose.”

“Sit down and drink your goddamn Frappuccino, Stiles.”

When Stiles actually found a table which was to his liking and finally sat down, temporarily being shut up by his Frappuccino and the blueberry muffin he had insisted on buying, Derek slumped into his chair, relieved at the short-termed silence.

“A caramel latte is not girly,” Derek mumbled after taking a sip of his beverage.

“Yeah, whatever makes you sleep at night.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, licking cream from his lips.

Derek shook his head, barely able to contain his laughter. He pointed his spoon at Stiles, pressing his lips together to not burst out laughing when milk foam hit Stiles’ nose.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, smirking despite himself.

“An idiot? Wow. Zero points for originality.”

Derek only rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee.

They stayed until after nine; Stiles insisted they had some more muffins (he even bought Derek a cinnamon roll, since he had refused to spend any more money on breakfast). When their conversation died down, Derek pulled out the book he was currently reading - Marlowe - but Stiles just snatched it away and started reading out paragraphs in an awful, faux British accent. Admittedly, it was funny and Derek might have even grinned once or twice.

He didn’t miss Stiles’ glances, though. The short, moment-long instances when Stiles would gaze at Derek’s fingers, as if he was waiting for his fingernails to get longer, to form into claws. Still, he didn’t say anything, instead continued joking around, talking non-stop or making small talk with the staff (Derek had almost forgotten Stiles worked here a couple of times a week). So Derek did the only reasonable thing: playing along.

 

***

 

He could hardly concentrate on his homework when he sat in the library later that day. He crossed out a good part of the outline he had written for his paper after realizing how little sense it made, before he packed his things and went outside to collect his thoughts. Derek didn’t know why Stiles chose not to address it, especially since Stiles hardly ever shut his mouth about anything, but the way he had stared at Derek’s hands had been a very clear indicator for Stiles not having written off Derek’s claws as something procured in his imagination. Fact was, it probably wouldn’t take long until Stiles decided to ask Derek about it. Until then, Derek needed to decide what to tell him. He wasn’t sure if he considered Stiles a _friend_ , but it was the closest he had come to making friends with someone new in years. And it was the first time this someone was human.

Back in school, his only friends had been other Beacon Hills werewolves - most of them cousins of some sort; his family had been big. When he and Laura had moved to New York, he hadn’t even bothered to make any new friends; sure, there had been some acquaintances, some packs they had been on friendly terms with, but with the exception of the occasional human member, all of them had been werewolves. And in college, he had Boyd and Erica, who he was friends with, and his ex-roommate Jackson (their relationship based on mutual acceptance). He had never even tried to make friends with humans.

Not that he had tried with Stiles. Stiles was annoying and talked way too much, he was nosy and had the most obnoxious group of friends, he didn’t take no for an answer, and had the strange urge to socialize with Derek. But for some reason, although he sometimes wanted nothing more than to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth when the younger man wouldn’t stop talking, he had to admit this for some reason Derek didn’t understand, he liked him. Stiles was the first person other than Boyd and Erica whose presence didn’t bother him. The first person in a long time whom Derek actually liked spending time with.

It was terrifying.

 

***

He pulled out his phone on the way back to his dorm room, his thumb hovering over his sister’s name. This _was_ what big sisters were there for, right? Derek shook his head. There was no way he could talk to his sister about… interpersonal relationships. Or at least there was no way to ask her stuff like that without her making fun of him. For a moment, he thought of asking Boyd or Erica, but he decided he didn’t trust Erica when it came to Stiles. She would probably suggest just to tell him about the werewolf situation and would corner him in some poorly lit room if he didn’t accept it. No. Not worth the risk. He put his phone back into his pocket, switching on his notebook instead when he reached his room. He had to try something else. He had to… he looked over to Stiles’ empty bed (his roommate used to spend his weekends playing _Call of Duty_ and marathoning TV shows with his best friend, Scott), remembering the countless times Stiles was typing furiously, almost smashing in the keyboard of his battered notebook - Stiles had told him he was master of _the fine art of googling effectively_ , a thing that _totally existed and should be taught in schools because, you know, it’s definitely more important than learning about ancient Rome or stuff like that_. Googling for answers couldn’t be that hard, could it?

So it turned out that “ _should werewolves have human friends?_ ” brought up a disturbing number of _Twilight_ fan sites which suggested taking a quiz to determine whether he was _Team Edward_ or _Team Jacob_.  

Apparently he was _Team Edward_ and into _smart, sophisticated and cultured_ vampires. Whatever that meant.

After a while he found himself logging into facebook for the first time in weeks. He smirked when he found the friend request Stiles had sent him and frowned when he read the message Jackson - that asshole - had written somewhere in August, telling him he would probably move in with Danny. He untagged himself from some old pictures Laura had posted, and ignored the rest of his friend requests (including _Scotty MC_ ’s) before he noticed his sister was online. He opened the small chat window and typed in a message before he could rethink his decision. After all, him being _Team Edward_ didn’t answer any questions.

 

 **Derek Hale:** Hey.

 **Laura Hale:** derek??? is this really you or has someone hacked into your account?

 **Derek Hale:** Why would anyone do this?

 

Derek rolled his eyes. His sister was being stupid again. Of course. He opened his specs case and pulled out his glasses, rubbing his eyes before he put them on.

 

 **Laura Hale:** what did you use to call me when you were little? i need to know if you’re u

 **Derek Hale:** I won’t answer that.

 **Laura Hale:** aaw, it’s you

 **Laura Hale:** what’s up bby bro? u need something?

 **Derek Hale:** Yes.

 **Laura Hale:** which is…?

 

He couldn’t do this. There was no way he could ask her. Derek breathed in deeply when he typed out the next couple of words, taking a while until he hit send.

 

 **Derek Hale:** I need your advice.

 **Laura Hale:** woah that’s a first. shoot!

 **Derek Hale:** Do you have any human friends?

 **Laura Hale:** well, there’s cathy from tessa’s pack why do u ask

 **Derek Hale:** But do you have any human friends who don’t know about werewolves?

 **Laura Hale:** i had some in school  & college, WHY

 **Derek Hale:** My roommate is human, it’s hard to keep anything from him.

 **Laura Hale:** you have to be careful, humans don’t take stuff like that easily

 **Derek Hale:** I don’t know whether I should tell him or not.

 **Laura Hale:** don’t if you can avoid it

 **Laura Hale:** he’s ur friend?

 **Derek Hale:** We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but we get along. I’ve never had human friends before.

 **Laura Hale:** it’s not easy for werewolves to have human friends i know, i had one and i was afraid to tell her (when i was in middle school) i wasn’t sure if she’d understand and when i told her she didn’t

 **Laura Hale:** she stopped talking to me

 

Derek couldn’t read the rest when he heard Stiles approaching their dorm room and closed the browser window.

“Hey, Derek, long time no see,” Stiles said when he opened the door, grinning. He flopped down onto his bed, kicking off his shoes while he started talking about some guy named Greenberg.

Derek nodded, grabbing one of his books from the bedside table and opened it, pretending to be reading and not paying attention to Stiles’ rambling. For a moment, his wolf was pacing underneath his skin, on edge, wanting to get out just as usual lately. The tips of his fingers started tingling, his claws on the verge of popping out until Derek breathed in, pushing the wolf back into the corner of his mind. It would be so much easier if Stiles just knew. So much easier, but probably impossible - after all, humans didn’t take stuff like this exactly well, right? He couldn’t risk Stiles freaking out, couldn’t risk him looking at him as if… as if he was a monster. But not telling him? He thought back to Allison warning him about being careful around his roommate. He should probably start. Being careful, that is.

He grabbed his iPod and headphones, turning on shuffle, and listened to some random songs he couldn’t remember ever having listened to before. He should most definitely be more careful around Stiles. Opening up to him - and there was no way denying it, he _was_ opening up to him, meant to be lulled into a false sense of security. The closer he got to Stiles, the more difficult it would be to hold back his wolf.

He should probably give up on becoming friends with Stiles altogether. Yes. That sounded like a plan.

He spent the next couple of hours reading, as usual, catching up on some mandatory readings and eventually sorting through his lecture notes, adding some of the things he had just read. From time to time he glanced over to Stiles who lay on his stomach watching YouTube videos and drumming his fingers against the mattress. When Stiles lifted his head to glance in his direction, Derek, went back to reading.

“-think you’ve done enough for today,” Stiles told him after another hour of ignoring his presence, ripping out his earphones.

“What are you doing?” Derek growled, snatching them out of the younger man's hands.

“We,” Stiles said, sitting down on Derek’s bed, ”are going to watch a movie. You’ve been ignoring me for hours; you look like someone forgot your birthday and I’m not letting you sulk for the rest of the day, grumpy cat!”

“What if I don’t want to?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes.

“Lies,” Stiles said, grinning, and waved his hand dismissively. “You’re totally up for it.” He stood up again only to grab his laptop and a box of Reese's and flopped down onto Derek’s bed.

“Roll over.”

“I’m not watching a movie with you.”

Stiles smirked. "Yeah, I think you are. Action, drama, horror, comedy, romance? I also have some classics. You can choose. We could watch Marvel movies, or Tarantino, I even have some rom-coms if you're into those."

He looked at him, expecting an answer and just shook his head when Derek stayed silent.

“Okay, I’ll choose.”

“Get off my bed, Stiles.”

“Nope.” Stiles shoved at him until Derek moved a bit, making some space for his roommate to sit next to him.

Being careful around Stiles, ignoring him, went _really_ well.

“What we’re going to watch is probably one of my favorite movies ever,” Stiles told him a couple of minutes later. Derek had peeked over his shoulder when he browsed through his movie folders (which were sorted by genre and release date), but he had soon found it too hard to follow him, so he had gotten up instead to get them a bottle of 7 up from the stack at the foot of his bed. If Stiles made him watch a movie, he at least wanted to have something to drink.

“I’m not sure if you’re going to like it,” Stiles told him when he hit play, “but, you see, for me this is one of the most important movies, if not _the_ most important movie. It’s an awful horror B movie with absolutely gruesome effects, but it’s late 80s, and the soundtrack is awesome. Maybe it’s not important in the sense that it shaped a whole generation, like, let’s say, _Breakfast Club_ , but watching this movie for the first time was a defining moment in Scott’s an my friendship.”

The screen stayed black for a few more seconds before names appeared, accompanied by heavy drum beats.

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, when the title of the movie appeared.

_Teen Wolf._

Wasn’t this some werewolf horror flick? His heartbeat went fast and he glanced at Stiles, who tilted his head. “You know this movie?”

“No. I don’t. I usually don’t watch horror movies,” Derek told him, trying his best to steady his voice.

“It’s not very known, but it stars Michael J. Fox, you know, _Back to the Future_?”

Derek nodded numbly, his eyes back on the screen, where a basketball match took place, sweating teenagers running across the field, the drums changing to something resembling a heartbeat.

The main character, apparently his name was Scott, lay on the ground until someone from the other team helped him up.

“You suck,” Stiles said next to him, moments before the guy, propping himself up on the elbows.  
“Oh, really?” he whispered at the same time as the Scott boy.

“I’ve watched the movie so many times, I can recite every single line, I think,” Stiles told him, grinning. “Hey, Scott, you’re looking good out there, babe,” he mumbled at the same time as some ridiculous looking guy in sunglasses and bright red pants.

“How would you know, Stiles,” Scott shouted back.

“Stiles? The characters are named Scott and Stiles?” Derek stared at his roommate, who broke out laughing and paused the movie.

“Well, this movie is the reason I’m called Stiles. Scott had the idea back when we were kids; we watched the movie and Scott has refused to call me anything but Stiles ever since.”

“So Stiles is not your real name?” Derek asked, frowning. “What’s your real name?”

Stiles only shrugged, grinning and grabbing a peanut butter cup.

“That… doesn’t matter. So, yeah, Scott and I bonded over this movie, it's where my nickname comes from; that’s why it’s so important to me.”

The movie was awful, Derek noticed after half an hour. Movie-Stiles was a stoner who was even more obnoxious than real Stiles, movie-Scott was hopelessly in love with the popular girl, Pamela, who reminded him of a dumb version of Lydia and despite something being very wrong with movie-Scott (he grew claws and fangs that just _didn’t look right at all_ ), he went to a party of all things.

He almost laughed when movie-Scott started to grow hair until he looked like a slightly less hairy Chewbacca, because this was just not what werewolves looked like.

“Ridiculous, I know,” Stiles said next to him, munching on peanut butter cups.

He really didn’t know, though.

“So why did everyone like him?” Derek asked, when the credits rolled. Movie-Scott had been the most popular student of his high school after he had transformed into a werewolf, although he had looked like a primate with his hairy arms and face. “He is a werewolf. They reacted like it was no big deal.”

“It’s because he transformed into a sex god,” Stiles said with a completely straight face, until he broke out in laughter. “Isn’t he sexy with his… chest hair and masculine beard?”

Derek bit his lip, shaking his head. “If you’re into grizzly bears, probably,” he said, shoving at Stiles a bit, who lost balance and fell from the bed.

“Dude!”

Stiles got up, reaching over to the Reese’s box and smashing a peanut butter cup into Derek’s face in a swift motion.

“What was that for?” Derek asked, blinking. He pulled the chocolate from his forehead, wrinkling his nose when he noticed the sticky substance in his eyebrows.

“Shoving me off the bed, dumbass,” Stiles said, smirking. “You look ama-hmpffff!”

He stared at him with wide eyes, his cheek full with half-molten chocolate from where Derek had attacked him with what was left from his cup.

“No, but seriously, I kind of like that aspect of the movie,” Stiles told him, sitting down next to Derek. He licked the chocolate and peanut butter from his fingers and rubbed his hand over his cheek. “They didn’t treat him like a monster. They didn’t hate him for being different. Well, except for Pamela’s boyfriend, but that was because he’s an asshole.”

“But he _is_ a monster,” Derek said quietly.

“Is he? Being a werewolf doesn’t automatically make him a monster. He didn’t hurt anyone. And most importantly, he didn’t choose to be a werewolf.”

“You might be right,” Derek mumbled, lost in thought. Would Stiles still think like that if he knew what Derek was? Probably not. There was a big difference between defending a fictional character and a real person.

“You feeling better?” Stiles asked him after he had washed his face and crawled into his own bed.

“What makes you think I wasn’t feeling well?” Derek asked back.

“You were looking particularly sour, grumpy cat.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Why would you care?”

Stiles smirked.

“Because you’re my friend, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Yes, we really researched "Team Edward or Team Jacob" quizzes for this fic. Also, before writing this chapter I (honeywolf) actually sat down and watched the 1989 Teen Wolf movie and... it's awful, I really, really hated this movie. But if you're into B-horror movies with gruesome special effects then, well, go for it, it has a pretty unusual take on werewolves.
> 
> As usual, this chapter was accompanied by an awesome illustration by [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and beta-read by [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle).  
> You can find us on tumblr: [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay soooo this chapter is kinda extremely short and sort of a filler, I (Helena) am really sorry, but it was also kind of necessary? You'll (hopefully) see what I mean.  
> The next chapter is back to the usual lenght and there are some reeeally long ones later that will hopefully make up for it. Enjoy!

[ ](http://imgur.com/uMJXGDY)

# Chapter 8

##  _What exactly_ had Stiles done to deserve this? What in the world- okay, no, if he was completely honest with himself, his life was getting a million times more exciting and he loved it.

 

That Monday, Stiles was sitting in class, motionlessly staring at the whiteboard. No - that wasn’t quite right - he was staring _through_ the whiteboard.

For the first time this semester Stiles was too distracted to listen to his professor, or even to dreamily stare at Lydia Martin’s hair in front of him. He couldn’t get him out of his head. Derek, that is. And not in the good _he’s-so-goddamn-attractive-way_ (although, if Stiles was honest with himself, this thought had come up more than once) but in the _I-think-there-might-be-something-seriously-off-with-all-this-because-holy-shit-claws-and-maybe-just-maybe-the-supernatural-really-exists-_ way. Stiles, not for the first time, suppressed a shiver at the thought. Not necessarily a bad one, because honestly, that would just be _awesome_. But also, you know, terrifying.

He’d spent the better part of the lesson going through his memories, collecting all the clues he’d previously dismissed as tricks of the light or his imagination. He’d even compiled a list on the open laptop before him. It wasn’t a very long one.

 

_Eyes_

_Claws_

_Teeth_

 

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to write fangs. Because nope, just no.

His thoughts kept circling back to that one night when Derek had been missing. Stiles couldn’t be sure, not unless he googled the lunar calendar.

He mentally slapped himself. He would _not_ pull a Bella Swan on Derek. Researching supernatural creatures on the internet? Really?

Stiles flinched when his professor dropped a piece of chalk on the floor and he shook his head.

Stiles Stilinski, he told himself, as he straightened his back and opened his browser. You can do this. You can pull a Bella Swan and not lose your dignity. It’s possible.

He took a deep breath, typed ‘lunar calendar’ into Google and hit search. About sixty seconds later he had to bite his tongue in order to not squeal or something.

He stared at the screen for a couple of seconds before changing back to the list and carefully adding a fourth line.

 

_Full moon._

 

“Shit,” Stiles breathed and abruptly closed his laptop, causing the people around him to give him stern looks of disapproval, but he hardly noticed. His roommate was a… a… no he couldn’t even _think_ the word.

He spent the rest of class trying not to have a panic attack. Denying all the signs had been easy when he’d only seen little clues, clues he could easily dismiss. But now they had come together in his mind to form this one, big… _theory_ which was almost impossible to ignore.

After class he went straight to the library and buried himself in the mythology section. Obviously, some of the texts didn’t fit his theory at all but others… Stiles found himself taking more and more notes. It should freak him out more the more he found out, but somehow the researching calmed him down.

He was in the middle of a chapter on the role of werewolves in seventeenth century literature and it was actually really interesting and Derek would probably love it-

“What are you reading?”

Stiles jumped and violently slammed his book shut, earning him a few glares from his fellow library visitors.

“N-nothing,” he stuttered, staring wide-eyed at Allison who was looking at him with furrowed brows. “Just… reading up on something,” he whispered, pressing the book to his chest.

Allison raised her eyebrows. “Right…”

Stiles nodded and then pretty much bolted, barely even remembering to check out the book he was clutching to his chest like his life depended on it. It only occurred to him later it would probably have been a thousand times less suspicious if he had just shown Allison the book and told her it was something he’d stumbled on by mistake. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now. And he had bigger things to worry about anyway. Like how his roommate was a freaking _werewolf_. Stiles asked himself, not for the first time today, how the fuck this was his life.

 

***

 

He was actually a little relieved he had a shift at the coffee shop before he had to go home and face Derek. Thankfully, it was a busy afternoon and after half an hour, he had enough customers to forget his life had become a shit storm.

Stiles was just cleaning the milk steamer when he heard someone clear his throat. “Sorry, I’ll be there in a sec!” he called over his shoulder and dried his hand before turning around.

“What can I do for you?” he asked as he gave the tall, dark-haired customer a wide smile. The man didn’t smile back. He tilted his head a little and unfolded his arms, making his leather jacket shift over the gray v-neck over his strongly defined chest.

“Black coffee, please.”

“Americano, coming right up,” Stiles said cheerfully, rolling his eyes when he’d turned his back on the customer. He had the drink prepared within a minute and was handing the man his change when he looked up at him and could have sworn he saw a flash of blue. Stiles mentally shook himself. That must have been all the reading he’d been doing. Calm down, Stiles, he told himself. Not everyone you’re going to meet who seems a bit creepy is a fucking werewolf.

The man gave a tight smile. “Before I leave, I have a question,” the guy said, gesturing to the walls that surrounded campus, across the street. “Do you by any chance know where I can find Quincy House? I’m visiting my nephew.”

Stiles suppressed a shudder. “Sure. Just walk onto campus through that entrance,” he said, pointing his finger, “and then move three courts over. Should be on your left.”

The guy gave a single nod. “Thank you,” he said slowly and Stiles could have sworn he leaned closer and _sniffed_ the air. But that couldn’t be right. His eyes shifted to Stiles’ name tag. “Stiles.”

Stiles swallowed and forced himself to smile. “No problem, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

This time the stranger actually gave a genuine smile. “Trust me. I will.”

 

***

 

It took him another hour of walking up and down the courtyard in front of their building, thinking of what to say, before he could muster up the courage to go back to theirroom, shivering when he got inside. He’d come to the conclusion it couldn’t be that bad. After all, Derek wasn’t stupid. He must have seen the looks Stiles had given him. There was no way he didn’t know that Stiles knew. He probably didn’t know how _much_ Stiles knew but... Stiles was sure Derek suspected something. He was also reasonably sure Derek wouldn’t kill him. Like, people would notice. Right?

At this point he’d decided to just get it over with. The scenarios rushing through his brain weren’t going to get any less insane and they weren’t going to make him calm down. The opposite actually. So he forced himself to enter the building and then their room.

Derek was sitting at his desk, facing away from him, his shoulders tense.

Stiles forced himself not to think twice about it and opened his mouth.

“Dude… I know.”

Derek slowly got up and stared, his brows furrowed.

“You… know?” Stiles could tell he was trying to keep his voice even but he could see a certain guardedness in his eyes. No anger though, not yet. No anger was good.

He nodded. “I do… But, dude, it’s cool. I won’t… tell or anything. Outing people is not my style.” He didn’t even know where the words had come from, but now they were out. And judging by the way Derek’s expression darkened, they’d been the wrong thing to say.

“This is about… my sexuality?” Derek asked, his voice very low, almost like a growl.

Stiles took a step back and raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“Whoa hey, it’s okay. I didn’t know you were… that’s great! I mean, no! It’s not great - not that I - no, wait, forget I just said that,” he stuttered as he watched Derek’s eyes narrow. “I wasn’t talking about your being gay, or bi or whatever. Which is totally fine, by the way. Totally. No big deal.” Stiles decided to stop that train of thought right there because Derek’s expression made him reconsider his thoughts from before about, well, _not_ getting killed.

“I know you’re a… not human,” he said carefully, mentally steeling himself for the response.

Derek seemed to be frozen in place for a few seconds before his expression darkened even more, but his eyes… his eyes told a different story. He almost looked scared.

“Allison told you, didn’t she?” he asked and the anger in his words hit Stiles like a brick wall.

“Allison?” Stiles asked, completely taken aback. “No, she- what does she have to do with anything?” he asked and then remembered what had happened in the library and thought better of it. “Actually, you know what, I don’t even want to know.”

Derek looked like he was close to exploding. Stiles automatically took a step forward to… he didn’t even know what he wanted to do, just… diffuse all the stupid tension in the room.

But Derek reared back and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Stiles stared at the closed border between them for a full minute before he weakly sank down on his bed.

It had gone well, all things considered, he figured. He still had his limbs attached to him, for one thing. He decided to treat that as an accomplishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos, it makes all the hard work worth it!
> 
> You should really check out [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com)'s tumblr for more awesomeness like the incredible illustrations they did for us. Also, we can't thank them and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle) enough for betaing this moster for us.  
> Drop by on tumblr if you like: [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

# Chapter 9

## okay (oʊˈkeɪ): adjective - in a satisfactory physical or mental state

 

“Maybe next time we meet you could actually try to contribute at least a bit,” Braeden said with a thin-lipped smile, closing her book. She glared at him, her eyebrows raised, while he packed his stuff, pointedly waiting for him to say something. He sighed. She was right, really, she was. They had to do a presentation together, and normally it was he who did all the work, but this time… this time he hadn’t even been able to concentrate. He nodded, doing his best to smile apologetically and even handed her her jacket before he went out of the building. When his lungs filled with fresh air, he momentarily felt better, less restricted, less panicking. The feeling didn’t last long, though.

Stiles _knew_. Derek didn’t know how much he knew, but he definitely knew he wasn’t human. That was probably enough, he supposed. Problem enough. When Stiles had told him the day before, he had completely freaked out, left the room before Stiles could further elaborate. He had stormed out before he had had time to really look at Stiles, afraid of finding hatred or even worse, _fear,_ in his roommate’s eyes. He hadn’t been able to stay there, talk to him, listen to him. Instead, he had found himself in front of Erica’s room ten minutes later, asking her if he could stay the night. Erica hadn’t asked him why, just hugged him too long and too tightly, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek and telling him to sort out whatever problems he had as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he still didn’t even know where to start. He had been sneaking into his dorm room at six in the morning, half hoping Stiles would wake up and confront him a second time, just to get it over with, but the guy had been sound asleep, so Derek had only grabbed his things and had been out again in a matter of minutes.

He pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, texting Erica if he could stay another night, but he already knew the answer before he received a “NO” in capital letters half a minute later. He shook his head when he glanced at his phone again, the date burning itself into his mind. Today was… the day. The day his family burned alive. Breathing in deeply he switched off his phone screen and crammed his phone back into his pocket, slowly walking back to his dorm room. Facing his demons or something like that. Just that he wasn’t ready for it.

Maybe he was overreacting, the ghost of his mother’s voice telling him to be careful around humans mingled with the uneasy feeling that learning there was an Argent in the same college he was in had left, or the general wariness he felt around humans ever since Kate. He shortly contemplated calling his sister, but… no. He just couldn’t bring himself to talk to her today. They never talked on this day, both preferring to keep to themselves. Plus, he just couldn’t talk to his sister about his distrust in humans. She would probably bring up Kate at one point or another, which would eventually result in a variant of the same conversation they had had a myriad of times already.

_Derek, it’s not your fault. What Kate did is not your fault. You couldn’t have known._

Except that it was. The blue color of his eyes was proof enough.

At least now, if anything was going wrong already, it would only be added to the countless things which had gone wrong on this specific date.

 

***

 

He didn’t immediately open the door to the dorm room, but instead found himself standing in front of it, waiting for his body to get less tense, waiting to calm down. None of these things did happen, though, if possible he tensed up even more, unable to breathe properly. He almost turned around to leave again, but… no. There was no way he would do that. He had to talk to Stiles. Had to explain to him a thing or two, probably. Had to talk to him before Stiles would go straight to Allison to ask her about werewolves. He couldn’t risk an Argent to think of him as some kind of threat, not even one which claimed to not be an active hunter. After Kate, he didn’t trust a single word they said.

Stiles slid off his headphones when Derek opened the door, staring at him with a frown on his face.

“Where have you been?” he asked, sitting up.

“Erica’s. I went back to get some stuff earlier today but you were sleeping.”

Stiles nodded, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his fingers in a constant motion.

“So, I suppose we need to talk,” he began, waiting for Derek to say something.

Derek looked for something in Stiles face which would tell him what the other one was thinking, but there was nothing except for wonder, curiosity. He didn’t smell like he was afraid, nor was his heartbeat anything other than usual.

“I mean, really, I get why you didn’t want to mention it and all, but you could at least start by telling me exactly who you are, because seriously, dude, there’s no way I’m asking you. Even thinking you could be… what I think you are is kind of ridiculous. So, help a brother out here, and spill it.”

Derek nodded, slowly, wishing nothing more than some experience in h _ow to tell your human friends you are a werewolf_.

 _It’s a bit like coming out_ , isn’t it, he thought. Not that he would have much experience with that either. He sat down opposite of Stiles, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You really want to know,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, I really wanna know. Why else do you think I did research? I could have ignored it, you know? It wouldn’t have been that hard. Blame the flashing blue eyes on the light, ignoring I kind of saw your… your claws.” He shrugged. “I just… sorry, but I just have to know. I hate it when things are being kept from me.”

Now or never, Derek supposed, clenching his shaking hands into fists.

“I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles didn’t react and Derek couldn’t find the courage to look at him.

Then - “Dude, I’m so sorry I made you watch _Teen Wolf_.”

Derek’s gaze was back on Stiles, who grinned at him kind of helplessly, shrugging his shoulders, his fingers tapping rhythms onto his knees.

“You… you don’t have to worry about anything. I won’t hurt you or bite you - maybe I won’t even be your roommate for very much longer.”

“Why’s that?” Stiles asked and lifted his eyebrows.

“I applied for a single room back when Jackson moved out, which means I maybe get one by January.”

“Oh.” He looked almost… _disappointed_. Derek shook his head. He was seeing things. He focused on his hands again which still trembled a bit.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Derek asked without looking at Stiles.

“No, why would I? I told you, man. I’m not into giving away other people’s secrets.” Stiles heartbeat told him he didn’t lie.

“Thanks for that.”

They were silent for quite a bit and Derek was relieved Stiles obviously took the werewolf situation pretty well, so he stood up, getting his things and checking his phone for messages.

Laura had sent him a short message, asking if he was okay. Derek settled on a simple “yes” for an answer, but his finger hovered over the “send” button before he decided not to answer. He wasn’t sure if he was okay. Probably not.

“So that’s it? No explanation? I get _nothing_?” Stiles asked and got up, sitting down at the foot of Derek’s bed and looking at him expectantly.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Derek noticed a glint in Stiles’ eyes. “I want to know which myths are true. I want to know what being a werewolf means - are you more of a Remus Lupin or… or a Jacob Black?”

“A what?”

“ _Twilight_. Nevermind. But maybe it’s best to start at the beginning, so… how did you become a werewolf?”

“I was born a werewolf. I come from a family of werewolves. We… we date back for generations.”

“There are more of you?”

“More than you would think.”

“Do you turn into a wolf once every full moon?”

“No.”

“Come on, don’t make this so difficult for me,” Stiles groaned.

Derek shrugged. It was probably better to tell him anyway. Better to tell him whatever he wanted to know before he went to the Argent girl to answer his questions.

“Werewolves normally don’t change into full wolves, only alpha wolves are sometimes able to do so,” he started. “There are three types of wolves, alphas, betas, and omegas. Only the bite of an alpha wolf can turn you into a werewolf.”

“Are you an alpha?” Stiles asked him.

“I’m a beta. There are also omegas, lone wolves who don’t have a pack. They are weak and most often go rabid after a while.”

“Can anyone become an alpha?”

Derek nodded.

“In order to become an alpha you have to either be the next in line when your alpha dies or kill an alpha yourself. Sometimes, there are wolves who achieve their alpha status without one of those things happening, by pure force of will. We call them ‘true alphas’, but I haven’t met one in my entire life.”

“So, if you don’t turn into a wolf, what do you turn into?”

“I don’t necessarily turn into anything if I have enough control over myself,” Derek told him. “But… well, our claws and fangs grow, our eyes start glowing, and the face shifts a bit, sideburns get longer, ears pointier. We are also generally stronger when we are in our… we call it beta forms.”

Stiles nodded, his eyes never leaving Derek. “So, you’re saying that you’re stronger than a human?”

“We’re stronger, faster, we generally have better eyesight and hearing, we don’t get sick and… our sense of smell and our healing abilities are advanced compared to humans.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“Injuries normally heal within minutes,” Derek said, shrugging, trying to not think about how his uncle was in a coma, only barely alive, his skin full of burns.

“Wait, you said you have better eyesight than humans. Why the hell do you wear glasses then?”

Derek shrugged.

“I have perfect eyesight when I’m shifted, I just don’t when I’m in my fully human form.”

Stiles nodded and for a moment Derek thought this was all he wanted to know, but he suddenly smirked, running a hand through his hair before he opened his mouth.

“Can you show me the healing thing?” he asked quietly.

“You… want me to injure myself just so that you can see how fast I’m healing?”

“If you put it like that, then I guess the answer’s ‘no’?” Stiles mumbled, and Derek couldn’t help but notice him looking a tiny bit disappointed.

“It still hurts, you know. Being injured. It doesn’t hurt long, but the process still does.”

Stiles nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Then, could you maybe show me your eyes? I need to see them long enough to know I’m not dreaming, dude.”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?” he asked skeptically.

“I do, I do, I just need some proof. It’s not like I have supernatural encounters every day, man.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, wolf-boy, I’m sure, I wanna see your eyes glow.”

Derek noticed with a smirk that Stiles’ mouth was agape when his eyes started to glow blue. Stiles shifted for a moment, then deciding on moving closer a bit, stared into Derek’s eyes, biting his lip in excitement.

“That’s… that’s so freaking _cool_ , dude.”

Derek allowed himself to smirk for a tiny moment. Of all reactions he had imagined, _cool_ was not one of them. But then again, this was Stiles. Derek’s eyes changed back to his normal color and the two of them sat in silence for a moment, until Stiles tilted his head and squinted at him.

“The wolf. On your shelf. The one you made very clear I wasn’t allowed to touch. Is it… does it have any magical powers or anything?”

“ _What_?”

“Hey come on, you just told me you’re a werewolf, it’s perfectly reasonable for me to ask that.”

“It’s not magical.”

“Why can’t I touch it then?” Stiles asked.

“Why do you _want_ to touch it in the first place? It’s a wooden statuette.” Derek frowned.

“I… don’t answer my questions with questions!”

“I carved it myself this summer and I didn’t want you to let it fall on the floor and destroy it. That’s it.”

“I kinda can’t say anything to that. Wait. You carved it? Derek Hale writes poetry and carves wolves out of wood? That’s… that’s… I don’t even know, man. You’re like straight out of some kitschy romance novel. _The dark, brooding stranger with an artistic, gentle soul_.”

Derek hit him with a pillow which made Stiles fall off the bed, but unfortunately it didn’t keep him from laughing.

 

***

 

Later, after Stiles’ questions had come to a (probably temporary) end and his roommate decided to visit his best friend (“Just to clear my head a bit, don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything”), Derek had time to think for the first time in hours. On a day like this, he preferred being kept occupied, but no matter how many attempts, he couldn’t concentrate enough on reading or studying or writing essays. Instead, his mind drifted off to the smell of fire and burning flesh and screaming and his sister covering his ears and hugging him close so all he could smell was her, all he could hear was her heart beating wildly in her chest, and all he could feel was her cold hands on his ears, trembling like the rest of her body, until she just sunk to the floor, her eyes full of tears, glowing red for the first time.

He thought back to the message in his inbox, Laura’s _are u ok_ , and for a second he thought of simply telling her _no, he wasn’t okay, he would probably never be okay on the day their family burned alive_. But he didn’t. She would just call him and ask him to calm down, and he really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. So instead, he opened his laptop, carefully avoiding any social media platform and instead opened YouTube, watching vlogs and cat videos and the _top 20 vines of september_. They were supposed to be hilarious, but Derek didn’t feel like laughing.

It was already past midnight when Stiles came back, smelling of Cheetos and 7 Up and Scott, smiling at Derek tiredly. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” he asked, kicking off his shoes. “You have class early tomorrow.”

Stiles was right, probably. He only had a couple hours left until he had to get up again. He shrugged, though, continuing to watch a video of a bunny eating a raspberry. He didn’t feel like going to sleep today.

“Everything alright?” Stiles asked when he got out of the bathroom 20 minutes later in his glow-in-the-dark _Batman_ boxer shorts and an old _Beacon Hills Lacrosse_ team t-shirt. Derek only glared at him, saying nothing.

“Oh, come on, grumpy, your frown is even deeper than usual. Go to sleep, you look like you could need some.”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t feel like sleeping,” he said quietly.

“Is it because of the whole me figuring out you get hairy once a month? Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but it’s alright with me.”

“No, it’s… It has nothing to do with you. And I don’t get hairy.”

“Not the point, dude,” Stiles said. “Anyways, I’m not tired yet, I’m on a sugar high, I think. Wanna do something? Watch a movie?”

Derek shrugged, but settled down on Stiles’ bed nevertheless.

 

***

 

“So… you never told your former roommate about you being a werewolf?” Stiles asked while chewing on a Mars bar.

It was rather cold in their room, the heating wasn’t quite working the way it was supposed to, so Stiles had thrown a mountain of blankets over them.

“He already knew,” Derek said with a shrug. “Jackson’s a werewolf himself.”

“Oh. Wow. How many of you are there? On campus?”

“Jackson, Erica, Boyd, and me. We’re many, but not that many, and most of us stay away from humans.”

“Erica is a werewolf?” Stiles asked wide-eyed. “That makes her… kind of even scarier.”

“She can be scary at times, you’re right,” Derek said, nodding. He smiled, relatively sure Stiles couldn’t see him in the dark. This was definitely better than being on his own.

“Shit, the wifi’s especially crappy today,” Stiles mumbled when he switched on his notebook.

“The wifi’s crappy all the time,” Derek mumbled. “What are you even trying to do?”

“We were going to watch a movie, remember? I need something to keep me awake; I’m really tired.”

“You can go to sleep. Me staying awake doesn’t mean you have to do so, too.” He stared at Stiles, unsure what to think. Stiles didn’t even know why he didn’t want to go to sleep. Nevertheless, he had just decided to stay awake with him.

Stiles breathed in deeply and looked down on his hands.

“When… when my mom died, I stayed awake some nights. Sometimes, I just couldn’t face the nightmares I knew I would have, so I would call Scott to have a sleepover, except we didn’t sleep. We would wait till my dad was asleep and watch movies or play video games all night long, or sometimes we would climb out the window and watch the sunrise and we would talk about anything but _her_. So I know sometimes it’s better to stay awake and I also know it’s better to have someone there to keep you company.”

Derek didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know where to begin.

“I can go if you want, though. I mean… If you rather want to be alone.”

“No. No, stay. If you want to.”

 

***

 

They ended up watching some of the worst horror movies Derek had ever seen (who would have thought _Teen Wolf_ had a sequel?) and Stiles asked him countless werewolf-related questions. Derek was generally very glad for the darkness, since Stiles managed to make him blush more than once. The guy had definitely done his research in some of the darkest and weirdest corners of the internet. He didn’t even want to know why Stiles would think things like “knotting” existed.

Three awful, werewolf-themed horror movies later, when Stiles was yawning next to him and Derek thought about how nice it would be to just close his eyes and go to sleep, Stiles sat up, stretching.

“How about going outside? It’s early morning already, we could watch the sun rise.”

“Isn’t it too cold for that? It’s November. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Not if I wear enough sweaters. Come on, the cold is part of the fun.”

“It’s freezing out there.”

“Nonsense. Come on. We’re doing this, it’s gonna be fun, believe me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek mumbled, but he grabbed his jacket nevertheless.

They settled down on the steps that led to their dorm, facing the campus grounds. Stiles looked ridiculous wearing three pairs of sweaters, his winter jacket and a thick scarf. By the time the sun rose, Stiles was sitting close to him, a blanket draped over both of them. It was chilly, okay, it was really cold but Derek didn’t mind it so much as Stiles did. He had suggested to get back inside more than once, but Stiles had only shaken his head and had insisted on at least waiting until sunrise.

“Come on, we won’t be outside for more than half an hour,” he mumbled next to him.

Stiles’ head was heavy on his shoulder, but his roommate was still awake.

“Perfect view,” Stiles muttered sleepily when they could see the first orange and pink streaks on the sky, clouds looking like cotton candy hanging above them.

Derek only hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on the sky.

“The fire, it was yesterday, six years ago,” Derek said quietly, closing his eyes a bit when the first sunbeams appeared on the horizon.

Stiles didn’t answer. Derek turned his head and saw Stiles had closed his eyes, quietly snoring on his shoulder with his mouth open.

Derek stifled a laugh, shaking his head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, sliding his jacket from his shoulders and covering Stiles in it as best as he could single-handedly. His phone fell out and he remembered Laura’s message, the one he had not yet replied to.

Taking in the indeed perfect view, he typed a reply.

 

Derek Hale: _I’m okay._

 

This time, he was sure he meant it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand secret's out! :D
> 
> The [bunny eating a rasperry video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9HV5O8Un6k) is one of the cutest videos you can find on YouTube.  
> And yeah, Teen Wolf unfortunately has a sequel, Teen Wolf Too, which focuses on Scott's cousin.  
> Also, glow-in-the-dark batman boxers are an [actual thing](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/huiv), they're awesome! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting and giving kudos, it's the absolute best.
> 
> As always, huge thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com), we couldn't have done this without you!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr if you like: [mylittlemindpalace ](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)& [honeywolf ](honeywolf.tumblr.com)  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

[ ](http://imgur.com/ksJU45w)

 

# Chapter 10

## Had Stiles really thought his life was complicated before? Because now 'complicated' didn't even begin to describe whatever the hell Stiles' life was.

 

Stiles was surprised at how well he adjusted to living with a werewolf. Not that there was a lot to adjust to. It wasn’t like Derek suddenly ran around flashing his claws and eyes at him, but a lot of things started to make more sense to him now. Like why Derek seemed to be so keen on spending as much of his time outside as possible. And why his mood, while almost constantly grumpy, varied a bit depending on the time of the month. (Stiles tried very hard not to tease him about that. Very.)

He actually had a harder time adjusting to thinking of Erica as a werewolf. And that was saying something because he only saw her maybe twice a week, tops. She was just… _scary_. Even Boyd, who probably had even more muscle power than Derek didn’t come off as intimidating as she did. When she found out Stiles knew about them, she laughed for a solid minute. Derek and Stiles shrugged at each other, both equally clueless as to what exactly was so amusing about this. Then she pulled them inside and made them try the casserole she'd made, as if nothing unusual had happened.

 

***

 

Thanksgiving was coming closer and closer and Stiles found himself unsure whether he liked it or not. Ever since Derek had stopped glaring at him constantly, he actually enjoyed being his roommate quite a bit. He still wasn't the most talkative human being on the planet, but he did initiate conversations sometimes, something Stiles suspected was actually kind of a big deal for Derek.

“He’s opening up to me,” Stiles said, chewing on his French fries. Scott was glaring at his soda, ripping his napkin into little shreds.

“You know,” he said, “Lately, all you want to talk about is Derek. I get it. You like him. You think he’s hot-”

“I don’t think-”

“You think he’s _obscenely good-looking with his glasses_ and you somehow think it’s your job to be his friend or whatever. And, that’s okay. You can be friends with whoever you want, but it’s just… I don’t like him. He always stares at me as if he’s going to eat me and he never talks and he obviously doesn’t like _me_.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t like Isaac. And he’s always around you, following you like a puppy and telling everyone how great Scott McCall is. He makes me feel as if I’m a lousy best friend.”

“Isaac’s one of the nicest people I know. Okay, I admit, he can be a bit too much sometimes, but he’s a great friend, he’s fun-”

“So is Derek! Okay, he needs quite some time warming up to people, but I’m sure he would like you and you’d like him, the only goddamn thing you’d have to do is try!”

Stiles crossed his arms, even if it meant Scott grabbed his last fries.

“You’re not even trying to like Isaac, and I’m pretty sure he’s way more likeable than grumpy-pants.”

Stiles pouted for the rest of the evening, until Scott gave up trying. Sure, Isaac was likeable, that was, if you wanted to be friends with the president of the Scott McCall fan club. And sure, Derek was grumpy and brooding. So what? Stiles knew underneath it all, Derek was actually quite fun.  
After some half-hearted attempts from Scott to lift his spirits, Stiles excused himself and went home, even ignoring Scott’s whining about how he had to go to the movies by himself now. He just couldn’t deal with him right now. He couldn’t deal with Scott not liking Derek. Was it strange to be so oddly defensive about his roommate? He wasn’t sure. Then, again, he was used to being strange.

When he came back to his dorm room, Derek greeted him with a nod in his general direction, without looking up from his well-read edition of _Midnight’s Children_.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Stiles tried, but Derek shook his head.

“I still have to finish some homework,” he told him with an apologetic rise of his eyebrows.

Stiles nodded and turned on his laptop instead, downloading the movie he had wanted to watch with Scott in a weak moment. He had _really_ been looking forward to seeing this movie, okay?

He couldn’t concentrate on the film, his mind wandering back to Scott all the time. Had he been overreacting? Scott was entitled to having an opinion, and if he didn’t like Derek, so be it. Somehow, though, he wanted the two of them to get along.

He snapped his laptop shut with more force than necessary, then immediately regretting it, whispering a quiet, “I’m sorry, baby,” before he put it on the floor next to his bed.

Derek just shook his head.

Stiles turned off the lamp on his bedside table, pulling his blanket over him, when his phone lit up.

 

Scotty: **im sorry ok? are u still mad at me??**

 

Stiles grinned. Of course Scott would give in.

 

Stiles: _No, it’s ok but we should still talk about it_

Scotty: **sure thing. good night!!**

Stiles: _good night :)_

 

***

 

Stiles woke up and blinked at the familiar ceiling of his childhood bedroom. He yawned, stretched and slowly got himself ready to get up and go to school when he heard his dad call his name. Stiles froze. His voice didn't sound right. It was frantic. Panicky, almost.

No, it couldn't- Not yet, not now-

Stiles was standing in the hospital hallway unable to move a finger as he watched nurses and doctors rush into her room. The room he'd spend most of his free time in for the past six months. A nurse was talking to him, but he couldn't hear a word. He could see his dad, next to the bed, tears running down his face, trying to reach out, but a doctor pushed him back, saying something to him. Whatever it was, he ignored it, frozen on the spot, staring down at the bed in front of him. The doctors’ efforts were useless anyway. Stiles knew it, the sheriff knew it. Somewhere in the back of Stiles' head, a voice whispered that they were just doing their job, doing everything they could to keep her alive.

Stiles wanted them all gone.

The room was suddenly empty and Stiles stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the woman who had once been his mother. They had closed her eyes and Stiles found himself struggling to remember what color they had been. He heard his dad in the hallway, crying, unable to keep his sobs quiet.

But- this was wrong. He had cried. He had clutched his mother's hand, screaming at her to wake up. This wasn't what had happened.

He heard his dad call his name and that hadn't happened either. His dad had been too out of it to even remember he had a son that night. Stiles looked up and saw his reflection in a mirror above his mother's bed and a stranger looked back at him. This wasn't the twelve-year-old who had lost his mother. This guy was years older- the buzzcut was gone, his face was longer, but his eyes were the same. They were dry though. This was wrong, too. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks as his dad kept calling his name, but the eyes in the mirror stayed dry and emotionless and-

Then everything was gone and he looked up into Derek's face. Derek, his roommate, his mind supplied. His roommate, who had his hands on his shoulder, who had probably been trying to shake him awake.

"Stiles," he said firmly, gripping his shoulders tightly. "You're safe. It was just a dream."

Stiles stared up at him, eyes wide and puffy from crying and he relaxed fractionally under Derek's hands. It took him another five minutes to get his breathing under control and to be able to sit up, wiping his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, unable to keep himself from being a bit embarrassed even though he knew it was unnecessary. If anyone knew about nightmares, it was Derek.

"Don't worry about it," Derek said, awkwardly shifting where he was sitting on Stiles' bed.

Stiles smiled weakly and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He hated this part. His nightmares usually left him more exhausted than when he'd gone to bed, but he never wanted to go back to sleep after one.

“You can go back to bed,” Stiles murmured when the silence stretched for too long. “I’ll probably just read for the rest of the night.” He glanced at his clock on the bedside table. 3:27. He winced.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Stiles decided not to ask.

“Alright,” he said, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. “Tell me something. Anything. I just need to… not fall back asleep,” he muttered.

A small smile ghosted over Derek’s lips. “You realize I’m not the most talkative person, right?”

Stiles snorted. “Asshole,” he muttered fondly.

They talked about this and that, carefully avoiding sensitive topics like fires and hospitals, until Stiles yawned more than he was actually using his words.

“You should sleep,” Derek said quietly. Stiles shook his head without much conviction and yawned again. “I don’t want-”

“I know. Believe me, I do. I’ll… stay. I’ll wake you if you have another one. Okay?”

Stiles gave him a long look, taking in the tense shoulders and the insecurity in his eyes, well-hidden behind a carefully crafted mask. It didn’t fool Stiles for a second.

“Okay.” He scooted to the side and pulled the covers back to give Derek room to slide into bed next to him. He did without saying a word, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Good night, Derek,” Stiles murmured as he closed his eyes and turned his back to Derek’s chest, falling asleep to Derek’s breath on his neck and a strong arm wound around his waist.

 

***

 

Stiles woke up rested and warm and cozy. Very warm and very cozy.

As awareness fully returned to his senses, he gradually noticed a few… _things_. They weren’t bad things, but they were definitely… noteworthy.

One, he had a warm, strong arm slung around his waist, which, two, put his face in very close proximity of a very well-defined, broad chest. The confusion lasted about ten seconds until he remembered his nightmare.

Which he promptly pushed out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t going to spoil this moment of having a totally hot guy asleep in bed next to him by thinking about his nightmares. He buried his nose deeper into the space just beyond Derek’s collarbone and drifted off once again.

When he woke again, not much later, it was because Derek was yawning and stretching, blinking his eyes open.

“Morning,” Stiles murmured sleepily and watched as Derek shuffled under the blanket, pulling it tighter around them.

“Morning,” Derek said hoarsely and Stiles lips twitched. He didn’t think he’d seen Derek sleepy before. Tired, sure but actually _I-just-woke-up-and-my-vocal-cords-are-a-bit-behind-sleepy_? Nope. New thing.

Derek yawned once more and then resumed his position on his side, facing Stiles. His face looked strangely open, like sleep had stripped all of his defences away, and suddenly Stiles realized how very very close they were. The seconds ticked by without either of them saying a word, and somehow, moving closer and closer until their lips met seemed like the totally acceptable and logical thing to do.

It was gentle, chaste really, and Stiles’ heart jumped inside his chest when he felt Derek respond. He instinctively pressed closer and slid his hand up Derek’s chest to his cheek, gently cupping his jaw in his hand.

That’s when he felt Derek tense and freeze up under his touch and he pulled away, opening his eyes, only to feel dread pool in his stomach.

Derek’s jaw was tense, his usual mask carefully set into place and Stiles hastily pulled away his hand.

“I… wow, shit, I’m sorry Derek,” he babbled, quickly scrambling to get out of the bed. Before Derek could react, he had locked himself inside the bathroom, sliding to the floor and burying his face in his hands.

Derek tried calling his name twice, but Stiles didn’t respond. He didn’t think he’d ever been more embarrassed in his life. He waited until he couldn’t hear the other man anymore before he carefully peaked into the room, finding it empty. He sighed, relieved, and went to find something to wear, trying to distract himself from the embarrassment he was still feeling. What had he been thinking, kissing Derek?! Worst idea in the history of ever. As if the guy would ever even be remotely interested.

 _He slept in your bed_ , a small annoying voice in the back of his head supplied and Stiles rolled his eyes. Yeah and that had obviously not meant a thing to him.

He was about to pack up his books and flee to the library when his phone rang.

“Yes, Scotty?” Stiles said after picking up, grateful for the distraction.

“Stiles? I’m… I’m in your common area. You should come here and see this.”

There was an odd hitch in Scott’s voice and Stiles frowned, stepping towards the door. “What are you doing in my building? What’s going on?”

“I was about to come see you, but then I walked by here and saw the news… just get out here.”

Stiles’ heart started beating faster as he grabbed his keys and stepped into the hallway. A minute later he stood next to Scott in front of the TV. Derek was there too, Stiles noticed peripherally, but he was too distracted by the news to care.

“...twenty-two-year-old was found dead on Harvard Campus early this morning. While autopsy results have not been made available to the public yet, one of the policemen on the case has informed the press that bite and claw marks were found on the girl’s body, suggesting a large predator, such as a mountain lion, could have been the attacker…”

Stiles felt the blood drain from his face at the mention of bites and claws and he met Derek’s eyes from across the room, all the previous awkwardness between them forgotten. A large predator? Right in the middle of Cambridge, Massachusetts? Not fucking likely.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so... we're cruel, aren't we? 
> 
> _Midnight's Children_ is a book by Salman Rushdie.
> 
> Thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) for being amazing :) 
> 
> Also, visit us on tumblr: [Helena ](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)& [Julie ](honeywolf.tumblr.com)  
> 


	11. Chapter 11

[ ](http://imgur.com/txwEsyB)

 

 

# Chapter 11

## persuasion /pə(r)ˈsweɪʒ(ə)n/: noun - the act of coaxing someone into doing something

 

“Are they kidding? A mountain lion? Do mountain lions even _live_ in this area?” Stiles muttered, walking next to Derek. Derek only shrugged; he wasn’t even sure if the question had been directed at him.

“Do we know who she was? The girl, I mean,” Stiles asked and this time he was looking at him, his face serious, frowning, with his lower lip between his teeth. Whatever had happened between them this morning was forgotten and Stiles had replaced his embarrassment, which had colored his cheeks bright red and had come in waves off him earlier, with something else; he was almost frantic in his desire to solve this murder. Too frantic. Like he was trying to distract himself. Which, granted, he probably was.

Derek ignored the tiny stab of pain in his chest and went back to the subject at hand. He got it. A mountain lion just didn’t sound right. Mountain lions didn’t live anywhere around here - Derek didn’t think any large predator did. But if it wasn’t an animal… Derek shook his head. No, it was impossible. None of the werewolves on campus would be able to do such a thing. Not when it wasn’t even full moon.

“I don’t know, I-I don’t think so,” Derek said, pulling out his keys. It was still pretty early in the morning, despite both of them already having been up for over an hour and Derek debated going to sleep again himself, but something told him he wouldn’t be able to do so any time soon.

Stiles was quiet for a while when they had reached their room, turning on his laptop and typing furiously for about ten minutes and Derek closed his eyes and let his head sink down onto the pillow, trying to forget about the morning. Forget about Stiles’ face on his chest, his breath on his skin, the way Stiles’ nose had felt when it had touched his collarbone. Forget about what this gesture would have meant if Stiles had been a werewolf. But the thing he tried to forget about most was the way his roommate had looked at him the moment before their lips had met - his little half-smile on his lips, sleepy, half open eyes and his hair tousled from sleep, just looking at him until his smile had vanished and his lips had parted and they had kissed.

It hadn’t been much of a kiss, sweet and only lasting a couple of seconds, but it was enough for Derek’s heart to almost explode in his chest, enough to feel every inch of his body tensing because he had to hold back with his whole force of will. He had only been seconds away from grabbing Stiles’ face, from _really_ kissing him, despite the morning breath, only moments away from pinning Stiles against the mattress, but whatever he had planned to do had been irrelevant the second Stiles had shifted away, had stammered an apology and had locked himself in the bathroom, smelling like he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Derek had tried to call Stiles’ name, but the younger man hadn’t opened the door. Not that it would have made any difference; Stiles had made his point clear enough.

It wasn’t as if Derek didn’t understand him. It had been morning, both of them had just woken up, Stiles had probably still been half asleep, maybe still halfway stuck in his dream. It hadn’t meant anything, not on Stiles’ part at least. _And not on mine_ , he thought to himself, because it _most certainly_ hadn’t. Stiles was obviously not interested in him; not that it made any difference. Stiles was a friend. Sure, Derek found him attractive, with his upturned nose and big eyes, his slender, yet well-defined body, and his constantly disheveled hair, but he wasn’t _attracted_ to him.

“Derek, I think I know the victim,” Stiles said, when Derek was already half asleep again. He sat up, squinting at his roommate.

“Her name is Braeden,” Stiles said, staring at his computer screen with slight disgust on his face. “Wow. Fuck. This is… this is disgusting.”

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, getting up.

“Police reports,” Stiles mumbled, apparently barely aware that Derek was about to sit down beside him.

“What do you mean, police- oh.” Derek peeked over Stiles’ shoulder, just to see the body of a girl, her skin completely shredded, bite wounds all over her shoulders and hips, deep gashes along her neck. Her face was too bloody to recognize her, and her stomach - Derek had to look away once he’d realized there wasn’t much left of her insides. His eyes went back to the top of the page and Stiles was right.

“She was in my comparative literature class. We had some assignment together last week.”

“Did you… did you know her well?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. “We worked together from time to time, but we weren’t exactly friends.”

For some reason, Stiles tried to hide a small smile at that notion.

“Why do you have access to police reports?

Stiles only lifted his eyebrows. “My dad’s the sheriff,” he said, looking smug.

 

***

 

“There’s no way this was a mountain lion,” Stiles said again and Derek had to agree; nothing about this seemed remotely like an animal attack.

“Mountain lions go for the throat first. Do you see the gashes on her throat? They aren’t bloody. What- _who_ ever did this to her sliced through her throat when she was dead already. But what’s the weirdest thing about this is that there’s nothing missing. Her organs were ripped out of her body, only to be deposited right next to her, she has bite wounds all over her but-”

“An animal would have tried to eat her,” Derek offered.

“Exactly.”

“You think this was a werewolf.”

“Don’t you?”

Derek nodded slowly. “But there’s no way, I mean… Boyd and Erica aren’t on campus right now, they went to Connecticut to meet with their pack this weekend.”

“What about Jackson?”

“He’s an ass, but he would never do something like that.”

Stiles nodded, typing something before he let out a couple of swear words.

“Seems like police don’t believe it was a mountain lion after all,” Stiles said. He leaned forward to grab his phone, almost knocking his laptop from his bed if it hadn’t been for Derek.

“Hey, Danny, I need your favor now. I need access to some files and I can’t do it myself.”

 

***

 

“You want me to do _what_?” Danny asked half an hour later, his mouth slightly agape.

“You said you would help me, no questions asked!” Stiles said, shrugging.

“This was before you told me you wanted me to hack into the goddamn _FBI_! This is illegal!”

“Pretty much everything you do is illegal, Danny. You supply high schoolers with fake IDs,” Stiles said, making Danny look helpless in Derek’s direction, who only shrugged. Stiles was right, after all.

“Please?” Stiles asked, opening a bottle of coke.

“Stiles, I’m sorry, I told you I owed you a favor, but that was not what I was talking about.”

“I can pay you,” Stiles said, grabbing some cups. “You want some coke, too, Derek?” he asked, which earned him a confused frown. Stiles never asked things like that.

“Sure,” Derek mumbled, asking himself what the hell Stiles had done for Danny that the older guy couldn’t have done himself.

“I don’t think you can pay me,” Danny said, getting up.

“Oh, I bet I- Sorry, Derek!”

Derek yelped when Stiles, who wanted to fill his cup, instead practically dumped the bottle over Derek and soaked his shirt in coke. Ice-cold coke that Stiles had taken out of their mini fridge only minutes ago. A glance to his side told him that the pile of freshly laundered shirts he had not yet put back into his wardrobe didn’t look any better.

Derek looked up to Stiles, who blushed furiously and gave him an apologetic smile.

“You should probably take off your shirt. You know, before you get a cold.”

Danny, who already stood by the door, almost on his way out again, turned around with a partly amused, partly satisfied grin, his eyes fixed on Derek.

“You know what, Stiles,” he said slowly, “I think you _can_ pay me after all.”

 

***

 

Derek eventually ended up topless after Stiles, avoiding Derek’s eyes, had told him that he was so sorry for ruining all his shirts . Apparently, the act had still been good enough, because Danny had placed his laptop strategically, so he could peek over the screen every now and then, watching Derek. He seemed particularly mesmerized when Derek turned and his tattoo became visible; unfortunately, Derek noticed that and now stoically sat on his bed, waiting for the two of them to finish, so he could get up and get a new shirt.

_I hate you_ , he mouthed in Stiles’ direction, but the younger man only smirked and shrugged.

“So… what did you and Jackson do yesterday?” Stiles asked.

“Movie night,” Danny said, looking concentrated at the screen.

“We stayed in, ordered pizza and watched _Lord of the Rings_ , now shut up so I can finish.”

Stiles actually managed to shut up for half an hour until Danny printed out what Stiles had asked for, without a word, just a disturbed headshake.

“Anything else?” Danny asked, and, for a moment, Derek could hear his heartbeat speeding up until Stiles shook his head. “Thanks, that’s it.”

“Two-hundred,” Danny said before he went out of their room. “Cash. By the end of next week.”

“But I thought-” Stiles began, his eyes wide, but Danny shook his head.

“It would have been _way_ more than that,” he told them, closing the door behind him.

“I’m going to kill you,” Derek said quietly when he went to his wardrobe to pull out a new shirt. “I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I had to improvise, you see, I overheard Danny talking to someone about how hot he thinks you are, and I thought- okay, I didn’t think. This was so not okay of me, I’m so sorry.” He turned away, his heart hammering violently in his chest.

“I think I’m gonna read those reports now,” Stiles mumbled, reading through whatever it was Danny had printed out for him.

“I’m almost 90 per cent sure it was a werewolf,” he told him after a while. “Apparently, the dental impression kind of matches a wolf, but not really, and the claw marks were a bit too deep for a wolf, also… there are no wolves in the Massachusetts area. They’re either guessing some unusually big wolf or someone who’s made a weapon out of a wolf’s skull, but it doesn’t really explain the sheer force used. You said you guys were stronger than regular humans, right?”

 

***

 

“So, is there something like a werewolf police? Some undercover FBI agents?”

“No,” Derek replied, not without noticing how Stiles still wasn’t quite looking at him, and how his heart hitched in his chest.

“What do you mean, no? Do you mean no one’s going to take care of this? We just established it was a werewolf-”

“You established that.”

“But no one will ever find the murderer!”

“Not every crime gets solved,” Derek mumbled.

“But one of your kind killed an innocent girl!”

Derek turned around.

“Don’t say ‘one of my kind’ as if I had anything to do with it. Just because I am werewolf and the murderer most likely was one doesn’t mean it’s any of my business. We don’t know if she was innocent. She could have been a hunter who killed the murderer’s family. It could have been revenge for all we know.”

Stiles swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Then, after a couple minutes, “There are hunters?”

Derek nodded. “Most of them have a code, only hunt werewolves who are a threat to people, but some kill us for the sake of killing, some hate us so much they want to extinguish us.”

“And those hunters, the ones who follow the code, do they sometimes work together with werewolves to, let’s say, solve werewolf-related crimes?”

“Rarely.”

“But they do?”

“It has been heard of.” Derek scowled at him. “I don’t know what you think you are doing but I will not contact a hunter for you.”

“So you know one?”

Derek turned away.

“It’s Allison, isn’t it?”

“How did-”

“Lucky guess.” Stiles shrugged. “And because your first reaction on me finding out about your being a werewolf was something along the lines of ‘Did Allison tell you?’ and you didn’t mention her when I asked about other werewolves.”

“You do not call Allison.”

He did. Of course he did.

 

***

 

Derek wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing when he got outside hours later, following the scent of blood and death until he could see the yellow crime scene tape. Allison had reluctantly agreed to help Stiles, which had quickly escalated to him and Allison glaring at each other and Stiles becoming more frustrated by the minute. Allison had offered to just leave it and let some friends of her dad who lived close-by know about the “mountain lion” incident, but before Stiles could have said anything, Derek had interfered. They didn’t need any more hunters around here. After another two or three hours of research, Allison and Stiles had just started gossiping about people Derek didn’t know or care about, so Derek had taken it as his cue to leave and go to the crime scene to _sniff around a bit_ as Stiles had suggested he should.

There wasn’t much to see anymore except for some darker stains on the ground, but the smell of old, dried blood was so strong, Derek almost felt like vomiting. He noticed some clumps of grass on the ground, where she must have tried to get away from whoever it was who killed her. The smell of fear was still in the air, however faintly, but Derek sunk into the grass slowly, running his fingers through his hair. He had known her. He had talked to her only a couple of days ago and now she was dead. And according to Allison, Braeden hadn’t been a hunter, just a 22-year old girl from Illinois who probably had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He leaned forward, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Braeden’s smell was the first thing he smelled - not the smell of her ripped out organs or the smell of her blood, but her own, individual scent. He could smell other people who had been around the crime scene, but nothing struck him as familiar until… there was something. A scent, so faint it had already mingled with the others, almost indistinguishable from the countless other scents. It was familiar, a scent he had smelled countless times.

He dialed Laura’s number faster than his brain could progress the information, his heart beating fast in his chest. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Laura picked up after a couple of seconds, sounding alert.

“Derek, what’s up? Anything wrong?”

“No,” Derek lied, glad Laura couldn’t hear his heartbeat. “Can’t I just call you, just… to talk?” He winced when his voice came out harsher than intended.

“Sure. It’s just that you usually don’t,” Laura said quietly. “How are you? How’s… I think you’ve never told me your roomie’s name, have you?”

“Stiles. And he’s fine.”

“Stiles? Like Sheriff Stilinski’s kid? You accidentally wolfed out in front of him when you were about seven, can you remember? He only laughed and wanted to touch your fangs, called you wolf-boy. He didn’t go by Stiles, though, back then. He has this weird, Polish name, I think.”

“I can remember,” Derek told her, because of course he could. He just had never been able to put two and two together. Of course Stiles had been the weird kid who hadn’t been afraid of werewolves.

“So, how’s Peter?” he carefully asked after a moment of smiling to himself. Let’s get down to business, he thought to himself grimly. He had to know. The scent he had noticed was unmistakably _pack_ , but besides himself and Laura, his uncle Peter was the only one left.

“Have you visited him lately?”

“I don’t think he’ll wake up anytime soon, if that is what you’re asking,” Laura said, her voice stiff. “Derek, why are you asking? We never talk about Peter.”

“It’s nothing,” Derek said, because there was nothing. He had probably only imagined smelling pack at the crime scene.

“Thanksgiving is soon,” Laura said.

“Sorry, I can’t.” He hung up and walked back to the dorms. When he got back, Allison was already gone and Stiles had given up on research.

“Did you find anything?” Stiles asked, yawning.

“No, I didn’t,” Derek said, his eyes resting on Stiles for a moment and he remembered how Stiles had looked at him all those years back, with an excited smile on his face, not the least bit afraid.

“Do you know any wolf packs around?” Stiles asked, sitting down next to him with his laptop. Derek nodded and together they compiled a list of packs Derek knew on the east coast, until Stiles slowly dozed off. Derek didn’t want to wake him up, but the memory of Stiles' reaction from when they last woke up together was still fresh in his mind, so letting him sleep in his bed really wasn't an option. With a quiet sight, he closed his laptop and carefully lifted him off  his bed. Stiles stirred and murmured something unintelligible but he didn't wake up when Derek carried him over to his bed. Carefully, he set him down and tucked the blankets around his figure before clearing off his own bed, switching off the lights, and sliding into bed himself.

Derek didn't get cold easily, but that night he did.

 

***

 

They gave up on finding out whoever had killed Braeden only days after that. None of them actually knew how to investigate a murder and there wasn’t much they could do anyway - Stiles had even talked Derek into walking around on campus grounds, trying to find any strange scents, anything that screamed werewolf, but aside from the faintly familiar scent at the crime scene, Derek hadn’t found anything. The wolf packs around town hadn’t helped them either, so they gave up. Allison didn’t show up again and Stiles shoved his notes on the murder deep into the bottommost drawer of his desk, but he kept doing his homework next to Derek, and, occasionally, his heart rate would spike, for no apparent reason. It was moments like these that made Derek wish he could read his mind.

It took a long time until he found Stiles sleeping next to him in his bed again, and the relief he felt was almost embarrassingly strong. It wasn’t as if anything really happened but it made Derek’s heart stutter in his chest, all the same. Sometimes, when he woke up and found Stiles sprawled across him, he would untangle their limbs and get up, and other times he would wake up with Stiles back in his own bed. They didn’t talk about it, the same way they didn’t talk about the kiss or the fact that even though they had decided to give up investigating, Braeden’s death nagged on both of them.

“It could have been an omega,” Derek said to Stiles at some point. “He’s probably dead by now. Most omegas don’t make it longer than a couple weeks.”

Just - something told him it wasn’t. But unlike Stiles, it wasn’t his nature to dig.

 

***

 

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” Stiles asked out of the blue about a week later. Derek looked up from his homework, shaking his head. “No,” he muttered, hoping Stiles would leave it at that. Which he didn’t, of course.

“Why?” he asked, sitting down next to him.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“I suppose you won’t stop asking questions until I tell you.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Derek closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. Why did he find it continuously harder to ignore Stiles?

“I don’t want to go back to Beacon Hills. My sister rebuilt our old house and… I just can’t go back.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“More than a year ago,” Derek said. “She said she wouldn’t visit me for as long as I decided not to visit her.”

Surprisingly enough, Stiles only put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly before he went out of the room.

 

***

 

“You really don’t want to come?” Stiles asked him, cramming his stuff into a duffel bag. Scott and Allison were already waiting outside for him, but Stiles of course had forgotten to pack and had instead marathoned a TV show the evening before.

Derek shook his head. “I really don’t,” he said. “Need a hand?” he asked while watching Stiles fight with the bag’s zipper, which wouldn’t close.

Stiles nodded avidly, handing him the bag. “Thanks, man,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “We’re late already.”

“Have fun,” Derek told Stiles when his roommate was already on his way out.

“You too.”

Stiles had his hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door before he let his duffle bag fall onto the ground and he turned around again, walking straight to Derek. He threw his arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

“See you next week,” he mumbled into Derek’s neck, his nose and lips ghosting over Derek’s skin for a moment, before he slowly pulled away. In the hallway, he could see Scott staring at them with a frown. His eyes darted back to Stiles, who looked at him with a faint smile, his hands on Derek’s arms. His face was close, only inches away, close enough to see every single mole on Stiles’ face. Their noses almost touched, and their lips would, too, if Derek moved forward just by a bit. Instead, he smiled and nodded, pulling back quickly.

“Scott’s waiting for you,” he said, and then the moment was over and Stiles turned around with a nod, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) , we never would have made it without you :) 
> 
> Come visit us on tumblr! [Helena ](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)& [Julie ](honeywolf.tumblr.com)  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

[ ](http://imgur.com/JsNVxk2)

 

# Chapter 12

## Stiles really needed to take things into his own hands because seriously, Derek was being an idiot

 

Thanksgiving ended up being a lot less interesting than Stiles had expected. Usually he loved going home, seeing his dad again, seeing all his high school friends... This time it just wasn’t the same. He firmly told himself a couple of times that it had nothing to do with a certain supernatural roommate of his. He didn’t miss Derek. Nope. Not a chance.

He managed going twenty-seven hours before texting him.

 

Stiles: _Miss me yet? ;-)_

 

He was a split second away from pressing send before he cursed and deleted it again before typing out a new message.

 

Stiles: _are you bored yet? you must be, harvard is boring. BH however is awesome. awesomely un-boring_

Derek: **_Hello, Stiles._**

Stiles: _dude this is not how you text okay? no one sends texts that just say hello, stiles_

Derek: **_I text the way I want to text, deal with it._**

Stiles: _omg youre one of those people_

Derek: **_What people?_**

Stiles: _the ones who use actual, legit, grammar conform punctuation marks_

Derek: **_You mean, normal people?_**

Stiles: _if you listened very closely just now you would have heard me snort in the distance_

Derek: **_Good night, Stiles._**

Stiles: _what do you mean good night? its barely even midnight over here._

Derek: **_Yes, but it’s almost three in the morning on my coast._**

Stiles: _yeah because you’re obviously busy sleeping. good night grumpy_

Derek: **_Good night, Stiles._**

 

Stiles snorted and threw his phone away. It would be a very long weekend.

 

***

 

There was no big welcome home hug waiting for him when he got back to school, but Derek’s halfhearted wave from his bed was enough to let him know he’d been missed. Especially when they later fell asleep together on Stiles’ bed, and Derek didn’t even try to pretend it happened by accident.

Stiles had no illusions about this. He was probably the first person Derek had gotten close with, in… a while, and he figured it was only natural he would be, well, tactile. Especially being a wolf and all that. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel that little sting when, in the morning, Derek got up and moved away like he didn’t care at all. Which, to be fair, he probably didn’t. Not in that way at least.

 

***

 

Time passed, and eventually the news about Braeden’s murder stopped. The police didn’t seem to be able to solve the case and neither could Derek and Stiles, so it moved to the back of Stiles’ mind.

He had a new project to focus on, after all. He called it _Get Derek To Get Over Himself And Visit His Sister Over Christmas._ He had a really watertight plan, too. He would mention it in every conversation they ever had, ever, until Derek finally agreed to come, just to make him stop talking about it. Easy-peasy. It was working great so far, too.

It was the first Friday of December when Stiles came back from classes, cheerfully greeted Derek and threw himself on his bed.

“So what has my friendly neighborhood werewolf been up to on this wonderful day?” he asked happily, reaching for his laptop.

Derek shot him a dark look and jerked his head in the direction of the window. The snow was falling in huge white flocks and the howling wind made them rush past the window at an unnaturally horizontal angle.

“Oh, you know, the usual, went for a swim, bathed in the sun.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from his words.

Stiles pouted. “No reason to get all grumpy on me, Der.” There was no real bite behind his words.

“What’s up?”

Derek didn’t reply, just kept staring his book down like he was trying to set in on fire with his eyes alone.

Stiles frowned and jumped up from his bed, only to sit at the foot of Derek’s and nudged his feet. “Come on, what’s wrong?” he asked, more softly than before.

Derek sighed and put his book down. “Laura called,” he murmured.

Stiles gave himself a mental high-five. This was the first time Derek had mentioned his sister on his own, without Stiles prodding him about it first. He tried not to smile gleefully and instead nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He was a sarcastic, immature, little idiot, but even he knew when not to make fun of people. Usually.

“What did she want?” Stiles already knew, but he felt like it was important for Derek to say it.

Derek glared. “You know damn well what she wanted. Invite me for Christmas.”

Stiles raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Calm down, wolf-boy, I’m trying to help here.”

Derek huffed and looked down at his hands.

“Come on, Der, she hasn’t seen you in ages,” Stiles said gently.

Derek gave him a dark look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quietly.

Something inside of Stiles snapped at that and he sat up straighter, all desire to treat Derek gently suddenly gone.

“No, of course not,” he snapped. “Of course I have no idea what it’s like to lose someone and then not know how to deal with that grief.”

He could see the beginnings of understanding in Derek’s eyes but he wasn’t done.

“But you know what I do know? I know that when it was just me and my dad, in those first few months, I wanted nothing but to have something, someone to hold on to. Someone who knew what I went through. But unfortunately the only person who did was so wrapped up in their own grief that alcohol was the better solution than taking care of their son.”

Somewhere in between those words, his voice had broken but he didn’t care. Derek needed to hear this. “So move your sorry ass and go visit your sister. She has it just as bad as you do, you know? And she probably wants nothing more than to be with the only family she has left.”

He knew it was unfair, but he couldn’t help it. The man needed a kick in the ass.

And it looked like he’d got it, too. Stiles really should have known, but he had the kicked-puppy-dog-look down to perfection. A dry laugh bubbled up in Stiles’ chest and he had to smile a bit through the tears that had most certainly _not_ gathered in his eyes.

“Oh come on, this is so unfair. I can’t stay mad at you when you look like that.”

He watched Derek’s Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said then, his voice suspiciously hoarse.

Stiles snorted, subtly wiping at his eyes. “Don’t apologize to _me_ ,” he said pointedly, even though he knew he had already won. Derek’s expression said as much.

“I’m sending you my flight details, so you can get the same one,” he said as he got up and went back to his bed. Derek didn’t reply.

 

***

 

The two of them left a few days after Scott and Allison because of Stiles’ work schedule. Derek didn’t speak for the whole ride on the Red Line. It wasn’t until they got on the Silver Line that he asked Stiles which terminal they would leave from. He fell back into his brooding then and, probably for the first time, Stiles let him be. While he didn’t approve of his life choices, he didn’t want to make this any harder on Derek than it already was.

Stiles spent the first two hours of the flight trying to work on a paper, which was due two weeks after Christmas, but he gave up after that. He was much too excited about Christmas. Which, okay, was maybe a little embarrassing.

He was still thrilled he got Derek to come with him, though. He was pretty sure he had made the right call there, and even if it meant going through hell for Derek for the first couple of days. He needed his sister, Stiles was sure about that.

He was just about to pack his laptop away, when he felt Derek’s head sink on his shoulder. The book he’d been reading lay open in his lap and Stiles couldn’t help but smile. Three months ago, Derek sleeping in his presence had been unimaginable. Stiles understood why now, and it made him all the more glad to see Derek trusted him enough for this.

Stiles knew he hadn’t had a minute of sleep last night, which had been all the more reason for him to go to bed. One of them had to be in driving condition and Stiles didn’t trust those werewolf reflexes after Derek had only gotten the minimum amount of sleep for a week and then none at all last night.

Derek slept through two stewardess attacks before he woke up, about forty minutes before they were due to land and Stiles chuckled. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

That got him a glare and he leaned back contently. As long as Derek still glared like his old self he wasn’t all too worried about him.

It took them twenty minutes to get to the car rental place Stiles always used when he went home and another twenty until they were sitting in the car. Stiles almost choked on his laughter at Derek’s horrified look.

“Oh relax, Der. It’ll get us home just fine.”

Derek’s expression didn’t change. “Stiles… this is practically an antique.”

Stiles laughed. “We’ll be fine. Believe me, I’m used to driving these, my jeep was already old when I was born.”

Derek elected not to reply to that.

 

***

 

“Driver picks the music,” Stiles shouted the second after he started the car.

“Come on, you insisted on this car already, that’s enough decisional power for you.”

“Sorry, dude, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Those are the rules.” He smirked, about 98% sure Derek wouldn’t get the reference.

“Those are dumb rules,” Derek growled.

“You don’t watch much TV, do you?”

Derek glared at him and turned on the radio to a random station which apparently played the top 10 charts of the week and crossed his arms in front of him, staring out of the window.

“I can barely hear the music,” Stiles said. Okay, the car had been a mistake. His jeep was in a better condition than this one. The engine made some suspicious sounds and there could be something wrong with the brakes, although he really didn’t want to think about that right now.

“So?” Derek shrugged.

“Could you please turn up the volume? I don’t know how loud is okay with your, you know, wolfy hearing, so…” Actually he didn’t want to let go of the steering wheel. But he needed something to occupy his mind with, and music would have to do, since Derek didn’t seem very conversational right now. Derek turned up the volume. Well, at least, Stiles had seen Derek’s hand move in the general direction of the radio, but whatever Derek had done, the radio was still too quiet for human ears.

“So, what music do you like?” he asked.

“Anything that doesn’t have too much bass in it,” Derek answered with a frown. “Hurts my ears.”

“Is this the reason why I can’t even hear any music playing? Because please, pick something that doesn’t hurt your ears and turn up the freaking volume.”

“Not before you admit what a huge mistake this car was.”

“Okay. This car is awful. I regret my decision.”

Derek smirked and turned up the music.

 

***

 

“I thought I could pick something.”

“Yes, yes I told you, but… an Oldies station?”

“I like the music.” Derek sighed and switched stations nevertheless.

“Nope, not happening, I need something I know the lyrics to.”

Derek changed stations again and for a few moments there was static, until they could hear a female voice singing.

“That’s okay. I know the lyrics at least. _But I keep cruising, can’t stop, won’t stop moving_ …”

Derek changed the station.

“Hey!”

“I don’t like her voice.”

The car made an awful sound and Stiles gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles stood out white. He needed a distraction.

“Okay, how about we’ll take the next music station, whatever it is.”

“Sure,” Derek said, changing stations again.

So, apparently there were music stations which dedicated hours and hours to Christmas songs.

“You sure we don’t want to switch stations?” Derek asked after they made it through the third _Last Christmas_ cover version. But no. No. He really didn’t want to listen to anything else right now. Okay, he hated those songs with a passion, most of them at least, but he knew all the words to them and _Little Drummer Boy_ annoyed the crap out of him right now, which kind of let him forget the awful noises the car made every couple of minutes.

“Sing along. They get less annoying when you sing along,” Stiles said, glancing at the clock. Only about two more hours.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “I can’t sing.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“ _I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need_ ,” Derek started, still frowning, and okay, he had been right, Derek couldn’t sing. But it didn’t matter.

“ _I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree_ ,” Stiles decided to sing along too, and he could almost feel Derek’s relief.

“ _I just want you for my own, more than you would ever know_.” He glanced over to Derek, who had his eyes closed, and Stiles decided he looked adorable with his glasses, which had been sliding off his nose a little, his arms still crossed in front of him and the fluffy grey sweater he was wearing.

Derek turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Make your wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you_ ,” he sang, still looking at him, running a hand through his hair with the tiniest smile on his lips before he turned his head back to look out of the window.

And if Stiles felt his cheeks go a bit red and if he had a warm feeling in his stomach, it was probably because the heating had finally kicked in.

 

***

 

The closer they got to Beacon Hills, the quieter Derek became, and whenever Stiles glanced over to the passenger seat, he could see that his shoulders were tense, his jawline set. Stiles wanted to hug him, but he knew Derek probably wouldn’t accept it right now. He was doubtlessly up to his ears in family memories he’d been suppressing for the last six years.

The sheriff was due to pick them up at the car rental around four o’clock and they even made it there a couple of minutes early. Stiles pulled into the parking lot and put the car in park, killing the engine and letting out a relieved sigh that they had made it without the car breaking down. He looked over at Derek and was about to say something but the words got stuck in his throat.

Derek was staring straight ahead, and his hands in his lap were curled into fists, knuckles white. Stiles could practically feel Derek’s internal panic attack and when he saw his dad’s squad car pull up a few parking spaces over, he made a spur of the moment decision.

“Hey, Dad!” he called, grinning, as he got out of the car and hugged the sheriff tightly.

“Hello, son,” his dad said, smiling and kissed him on the temple. Behind him, Stiles could hear Derek throwing the passenger side door closed. He pulled away from his dad, beaming.

“How was the drive?”

“Great, Dad. Nothing worth mentioning,” Stiles said quickly. “Dad, this is my roommate, Derek. You probably know his sister, Laura Hale?”

The sheriff’s smile widened as he shook Derek’s hand. “I do, yes, a brilliant young woman. Welcome back, Derek.”

Derek nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Stiles decided to take that as his queue. “Listen, Dad, I kind of told Derek he could stay with us tonight since his sister’s unexpectedly out of town and I didn’t want him to have to stay in that huge house alone on his first night; I hope that’s okay?”

Stiles heard the sharp intake of breath behind him and hoped he didn’t look too surprised. He wasn’t all that worried though; his dad could never say no to helping anyone and he wasn’t going to start now. He looked back and forth between the two of them and Stiles could tell he knew something was off but he didn’t comment.

“Sure, no problem, Derek,” the sheriff said, smiling. Stiles almost sighed in relief. This was why he loved his dad.

“Thank you, sir,” Derek said, and when Stiles glanced back he could see real gratitude in Derek’s expression. He gave himself a mental high five.

“Stiles, why don’t you handle the return of the car while Derek and I load both your bags into my trunk?”

Stiles nodded eagerly. “Yup, sounds good.” He felt a little bit sorry for Derek for having to be subject to his father’s interrogation, but then again, he had just sort of lied to his father for him.

He could deal.

It took ten minutes to return the car keys and sign the necessary paperwork before he was back outside, walking towards the squad car where Derek and his dad were talking. Stiles blinked. They were talking. Derek. Was talking. Full sentences from what he could tell.

When the sheriff saw Stiles approach, he motioned for them to get in and Stiles looked at Derek with raised eyebrows when his father wasn’t looking. Derek just shrugged.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the Stilinskis’ driveway, heaved their bags out of the car, and went inside. Derek was quiet but not as tense as in the car and Stiles took that as a good sign. He was reasonably sure he’d made the right call on this one. The three of them went upstairs and Stiles’ dad showed Derek the guest room. Derek thanked him and even gave him a small smile. Stiles mentally thanked the gods for his dad. With how kind he was, Derek couldn’t keep his grumpy appearance up even if he wanted to.

The sheriff told them to freshen up while he got started on an early dinner.

(“Do you eat meat, Derek?”

“Dad, have you _seen_ him?”

“I’m sure he can speak for himself, son.”

“I do, sir, thank you. No allergies.”

“There we go. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”)

Stiles was sitting on his bed, still unpacking when he saw Derek lean in the doorway out of the corner of his eyes.

Stiles looked up and blushed when he realized they were in his childhood bedroom.

“I guess now you have blackmail material for years to come,” he joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking at him disbelievingly. “Out of the two of us the one with blackmail material is definitely not me.”

Stiles blinked and then broke out into a fit of giggles.

“That’s...right,” he said when he’d collected himself. “I had forgotten… wolf-boy.”

Derek’s lips twitched and he looked down at the floor. “Only you, Stiles,” he murmured quietly.

Stiles was about to say something when his dad called them down to set the table and he quickly piled the clothes he had unpacked on a chair before following Derek out.

The sheriff was standing in the kitchen, stirring the contents of a pot; when he noticed Stiles and Derek walk in, he jerked his head in the direction of the dishes they were supposed to put out.

“I hope you like chicken stew, Derek?” he called from the kitchen while they were setting the table.

“I do.”

Stiles grinned. “It’s the only reasonably healthy thing he can cook,” he stage-whispered to Derek.

“I heard that!” the sheriff called and came into the room with the steaming pot.

There was nothing awkward about the dinner and Stiles was glad for it. His dad made easy conversation, asking Derek questions about his studies, never straying too close to the obvious topic of his family. He knew what had happened to them, of course, so there was really no point in talking about it.

He even managed to make Derek laugh once or twice. Which, yeah, they were jokes on Stiles’ expense, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when Derek looked so… carefree for the first time since he’d known him. But there was something else there, too. It was the way Derek looked at his father when he thought no one was looking. Stiles knew exactly what he was thinking then, and the vulnerability in Derek’s eyes broke his heart a little.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and pretended to be angry at his dad for telling that story about when he’d been five years old and felt like it was a good idea to eat the contents of the sand box.

And then they were carrying the dishes into the kitchen and Derek insisted on doing them and it was all so domestic that Stiles just stood there and stared for what felt like a full minute because this, this was something he wanted. Apparently.

When his brain came online again he pushed the thought to the darkest corner of his mind. He did so not need this right now. Derek was his friend and he needed him and he wasn’t going to ruin this because of a stupid crush.

He ignored the little voice in his head telling him that crush wasn’t _exactly_ the right word and helped him dry the plates.

His dad went to watch a game in the living room and Stiles brought him a beer on their way up the stairs. “Thanks for dinner, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

They went upstairs and Stiles shuffled his feet awkwardly when they reached his bedroom. “You tired yet? We could watch a movie or something.”

He didn’t know why it would suddenly feel so awkward between them. Stiles mentally snorted. Trust them to be perfectly fine when living in the same damn room, but when they had separate bedrooms the awkwardness started.

Derek shrugged. “I’m really tired, think I might just call it an early night.”

Stiles could see it was a blatant lie, but he didn’t comment. “Sure, no problem. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ll probably be up for a bit.”

Derek nodded, swallowing. “Good night, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

When he had closed his door behind him, Stiles took a steadying breath. Normal. Right. Just act normal.

He powered up his laptop, planning to see if Scott was online, and then put his clothes into the empty drawer in his dresser before IMing Scott.

 

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Hey scotty

 **Scott _:_** Stiles!! You arrived safely???

 

Stiles’ lips twitched. Scott had always been one to overuse his punctuation.

 

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Obviously

 **Scott _:_** How was driving with Derek?? You guys still on speaking terms?

 

Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Yeah, of course we are

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Stop pretending he’s some, idk murder suspect or something

 **Scott _:_** Whoa, dude calm down there.

 

And then Stiles suddenly got angry.

 

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ seriously scott it’s not funny anymore. I know you don’t like him but he’s my friend and I’m sick of listening to you pretend he’s a terrible person

 **Scott _:_** Stiles no!!!

 **Scott _:_** You know I didn’t mean it like that!!

 **Scott _:_** Stiles???

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ yeah I’m here

 **Scott _:_** I’m sorry okay? I’m just worried about you.

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ yeah well don’t be

 **Scott _:_** Stiles I mean it.

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ I know you do

 

Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself.

 

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ It’s fine Scott

 **Scott _:_** You sure?

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ yeah don’t worry about it. I overreacted, I’m sorry.

 **Scott _:_** No, all my fault dude. I’ll be nicer. Promise.

Stiles had to smile despite himself.

**Stilinskinator** _:_ I know, Scotty.

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Going to bed now. Long day.

 **Scott _:_** We’re okay right??

 **Stilinskinator** _:_ Relax Scotty, we’re fine. I’ll see you soon, okay? Tell Alli I said hi.

 **Scott _:_** Will do. Good night, Stiles.

 

Stiles leaned back and sighed, closing his laptop. He suddenly felt drained and tired and all he wanted was to curl up and read and not talk to anyone. And if the werewolf across the hall was the only exception to that, well, then so be it.

He got lost in _Game of Thrones_ for a while until he heard his dad walk up the stairs and put his book down. Sure enough, there was a quiet knock on the door before the sheriff stuck his head through the door.

“Good night, kiddo. I’m glad you’re home.”

Stiles smiled. “Me too, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Night, Dad.”

The door closed again and Stiles yawned, turning off his light and tucking the blankets around himself. On a whim he opened his mouth and hesitated for half a second before saying, very quietly: “You can come over anytime.”

He didn’t know how far supernatural hearing could go, but their house wasn’t that big and Derek was right across the hall.

When nothing happened for another twenty minutes he thought that maybe he’d been mistaken, that maybe his hearing wasn’t that good after all but then he heard one of the floorboards outside creak and smiled against his pillow. The door opened seconds later and Stiles scooted to the side and folded the covers back for Derek to slide in.

And then suddenly he had an arm full of werewolf.

Derek was pressing his face into Stiles’ collarbone and his arm was wrapped tightly around his waist and he was… shivering? Stiles hand automatically slid into Derek’s hair and he moved his fingers in gentle circles over his scalp.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, but Derek just shook his head and then pressed his face in closer, and Stiles was confused for a moment until he realized that Derek was _smelling_ him. He knew he should probably be a little bit freaked out but he figured it was a werewolf thing so he just kept sliding his finger through Derek’s hair until he had calmed down a bit.

He felt the taller man gradually relax under his hands and sighed quietly in relief. He thought he knew what this was about and there wasn’t much he could do about it except be there for him, so he did just that.

He shifted a bit so that the duvet was properly tucked over them both and when Derek’s arms slid back around his waist he went back to petting his scalp until his eyes went heavy and he fell asleep with Derek’s breath on his collarbone and their legs intertwined.

 

***

 

Stiles woke up because someone discreetly cleared his throat. It took him about five seconds to realize it wasn’t Derek, who was still wrapped around him like an octopus, except they had moved during the night and Stiles was now the little spoon, which was absolutely fine, splendid even-

It took him that whole train of thought to realize that it was his dad. Who was currently looking at him with his eyebrows so high up on his forehead Stiles wasn’t sure it was healthy.

“I can-” Stiles started but his dad gestured at him to be quiet, with a nod in Derek’s direction. Right. Stiles gently untangled their limbs and took a brief moment to feel embarrassed about the fact that both he and Derek weren’t wearing all that much clothing before following his dad out of the room.

“It’s not what it-”

“Looks like? Stiles,” his dad sighed, “I wish you didn’t feel like you have to hide this from-”

“I- no! Dad, there’s nothing to hide, I promise.” He knew it didn’t sound very believable in his situation, but he had to make him understand. The hurt look on his father’s face did terrible things to him. “Really, he’s just been having a rough time, coming back here, with what happened and… oh, Dad, don’t look at me like that!”

The sheriff was still frowning at him, not in the angry way but in the disappointed, _why-didn’t-he-tell-me way_ , which was the absolute worst, really.

“So… he’s not your boyfriend? Because that sure it what it looked like.”

Stiles buried his head in his hands. “No, Dad. He’s not.”

"Look, Stiles, I just mean... Derek's a nice, good looking guy and-"

Stiles groaned. "Dad, can we not?" He was _way_ too tired for this shit.

"You could do a lot worse than him, you know."

Stiles wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He really hoped Derek was still asleep and didn’t hear any of this.

“He, I… we’re not,” Stiles began and then huffed in frustration. “He doesn’t see me that way, Dad.” Then he realized how that sounded and quickly added: “And that’s fine. Completely fine with me.”

His Dad’s eyebrows had reached dangerous heights again. “You sure about that?”

Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

The sheriff sighed. “Whatever you say, kiddo.” He ruffled Stiles’ hair and Stiles wasn’t awake enough to even react to that. “I’m off to work. Want to pick me up later so we can grab a tree together?”

Stiles nodded and stifled a yawn. His dad smiled crookedly. “Go catch some more sleep,” he said and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Stiles glared at him. “No Dad. No. Nope. You don’t get to do this to me. I’m leaving.”

He could still hear him chuckling when he quietly closed his bedroom door behind him.

Derek was still sprawled across the bed, seemingly dead to the world, and Stiles caught himself smiling at the sleeping figure.

He was already shivering from the cold morning air that his shirt couldn’t keep at bay, so he unceremoniously slid back under the covers, careful not to rouse Derek. That particular mission was unsuccessful. He felt Derek stir the moment after he’d settled into his pillow and was about to curse silently when he blinked sleepily and then shifted closer so he could rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles froze for a split second before he rested his hand between Derek’s shoulder blades. Derek had never been an outright cuddler before unless it was the middle of the night and he’d either had a nightmare or he was comforting Stiles after one. He never did this in the morning though.

And then Stiles remembered that this must have been the first time Derek got a good night’s sleep in _days_ and it suddenly made so much more sense. They stayed like that for a good half hour and Stiles was almost sure Derek had gone back to sleep when he felt him stir again.

“Morning,” Derek murmured and yawned and slowly rolled off Stiles’ chest.

Stiles pretended not to care and failed miserably. “Good morning.”

He turned his head to look over at Derek, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes, and an odd weight settled over his chest that he really, _really_ tried to not pay attention to. Derek turned his head then and they shared a long look before Derek closed his eyes and frowned a little bit. Stiles wanted to make it go away.

“Sorry for ambushing you like that,” Derek murmured.

“I gave you permission, remember?” Stiles said pointedly.

Derek gave a small smile, which made Stiles’ heart lurch in his chest, and, oh god, he really hoped Derek wasn’t listening to his heart beat because… just no.

“You did,” Derek said, opening his eyes again, and his forehead creased again, like he was thinking very hard.

And then, just like that he began to talk. And Stiles, for once, kept his mouth shut. He had tried for weeks, months even, to get little pieces of information out of Derek, just to make him open up a little bit, and there he was now, almost four months into their friendship, offering up information on his own, without Stiles even opening his mouth in question. There was no way Stiles was going to ruin this by babbling away.

Derek told him everything. Once he had started, the words seemed to practically pour out of him. About halfway through it occurred to Stiles that Derek probably hadn’t told this to anyone ever before him and it made him feel proud and scared and devastated at the same time.

He talked about all the family members who had lived in the Hale house, all the kids and parents and mates and all Stiles could think was that only three survived. Then he told him how he met Kate Argent and how she’d seduced his sixteen-year-old self and at that point in the story, staying quiet and letting Derek talk seemed almost impossible. The bitterness in Derek’s voice when he talked about her was practically dripping from each and every word.

Then the fire happened, killing almost everyone. His parents, his sister, his two brothers, and his uncle Peter’s mate. Peter had been and still was hospitalized.

Kate had used him. She’d used him to get to his family and he thought it was his fault. No, he didn’t think, he _knew_ because his eyes were blue. Because they were supposed to be amber colored but because his actions had led to the deaths of innocents, they had turned to the blue color they were now.

The thought of going back to the house where it had all happened made Derek panic.

At this point, Stiles didn’t care if he interrupted, he pulled Derek into a tight hug, letting him press his face into the crook of his neck, like he had last night. It didn’t seem like Derek wanted to say anymore, though. Stiles only pulled away after a few minutes, giving him a stern look.

“You know I’m still going to make you go back?”

Derek nodded mutely.

“And you know that it’s for your own good.”

Another nod.

Stiles sighed. “Good.” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process all the new information and failing miserably. Well, then.

“Breakfast?” he asked, for lack of anything better to say, and Derek nodded again. It seemed like all the talking had made him completely speechless for the rest of the day.

“Right. Do you wanna shower while I set things up?”

Derek nodded once more. “Thank you,” he added then, and they both knew it wasn’t for the offer of a shower.

“No problem, dude. Let me just get you a towel.”

A few minutes later Stiles was downstairs, frying bacon, and the shower was running upstairs. Stiles still had Derek’s words from earlier spinning in circles in his brain. A lot of things about Derek suddenly made a lot more sense, and it was scaring Stiles a little bit. He’d gotten to know him well, better, in fact, than apparently anyone else. He somehow felt like it was his job to make sure Derek got better. Which, go figure. Of course Stiles would feel like that. With great power comes great- hell no, he was absolutely _not_ applying _Spider Man_ quotes to his life, thank you very much.

Derek came downstairs a few minutes later with his duffle bag and his backpack. They ate in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Stiles could tell Derek was lost in thought, but he didn’t wear the same panicky look he had the day before. He was still anxious as hell, sure, but there was some kind of… determination in his eyes which hadn’t been there before.

Stiles told him to leave the dishes in the sink and grabbed the keys of his jeep - his jeep! - before heading outside.

Derek watched him with amusement as he hugged his jeep hello for a good minute before getting in. Ignoring the mocking look Derek gave him with dignity.

“You sure she’s actually allowed on the road?” he asked, completely serious, but Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Forget it, dude. You’re not getting out of this one,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway, heading into the general direction of the reservoir.

He really, really hoped he was doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," is a _Supernatural_ reference.  
>  "But I keep cruising, can't stop, won't stop moving," is part of the song _Shake it off_ by Taylor Swift and the other lyrics - "I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need," are, of course, _All I want for Christmas is you_ by Mariah Carey. 
> 
> We really hope you liked this chapter :) Only 12 more to go! 
> 
> We also want to thank [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle) once more for everything. 
> 
> Maybe also say hi to us on tumblr:[Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you on Friday with even more feels!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday 13th with the 13th chapter of this story! :)

[ ](http://imgur.com/LW89bOq)

 

# Chapter 13

## home /həʊm/: noun - an environment offering security and happiness

 

“Stop the car.” Derek couldn’t keep his hands from shaking, even when clasped together, and sitting in Stiles’ shitty excuse of a car didn’t make it better. It actually made it worse, if he was completely honest with himself. Stiles only raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Nope, not doing that,” he said, popping the p and going over to hum along with the radio, completely out of tune. If Derek hadn’t been a werewolf, he would have probably thought Stiles didn’t care Derek was freaking out next to him, but underneath the carefree facade, he could hear the younger man’s heart pounding wildly.

“Stop the car, please,” Derek mumbled quietly and this time Stiles pulled over, turning around to him.

“Come on, Derek,” he said with a hesitant smile. “We’ve been over this. You can do it. And I won’t let you bail out of it, not now.”

Derek shook his head, collecting himself. He would drive back to the airport and fly back to Boston. It would be as if he had never been here in the first place.

“I can’t, Stiles. I can’t go there and…” He shook his head.

“But you want to see your sister again, don’t you? Want to make sure she’s fine and stuff.”

Derek shrugged. “She’d probably come around by New Year’s and show up sooner or later,” he mumbled, not quite believing it himself. Laura had refused to come see him for over a year now - why would she stop any time soon?

“Okay, Derek, I get it. I get you don’t want to go there, don’t want to set foot there, but…” Stiles trailed off, searching for words.

“My dad refused to open Mom’s drawers and wardrobe after she died,” Stiles mumbled after a few moments. “Most of his stuff was in there, too, but he’d rather buy new clothes than touch anything of hers. For a couple of months he’d even sleep in the guest room and even when he begun sleeping in his own bedroom again, he never opened the goddamn drawers. We didn’t even move her other stuff, her mug, her jacket on the coatrack, all stayed where it was as if she would come back any time. Then, one day, when Dad went to therapy, he called me into the bedroom and we emptied out the drawers. We gave away some stuff, but most of it we put in a couple of boxes up in the attic. We use her mug now, we hung up some of her pictures - she painted sometimes - and… Dad’s gotten better since then. Me too.” He swallowed. “I’m not saying it was easy, because it wasn’t, it hurt to look at all of her stuff, to see the clothes she was wearing, and to find old photos of her, and knowing she wouldn’t be back, ever, but it was some kind of closure both of us needed.”

He glanced back at Derek, who nodded numbly.

“I can’t make you go there if you’re not ready, but… I think you are, because otherwise you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

Derek reached for the door and Stiles’ eyebrows shot up.

“I can walk from here, It’s not far,” Derek said and Stiles’ lips curled into a smile. “Wait,” he said softly before Derek could say anything else and pulled him into a hug. “Call me if you need anything, right?” he whispered into his neck and Derek could instantly feel the goose bumps his hot breath against his skin was causing. He nodded, pulling Stiles closer a bit before reluctantly letting go. “Thank you,” he told him, the second time today, and it was for so much more than driving him here.

“Take care,” Stiles told him with his trademark lopsided smile and when Derek climbed out of the car, his gaze lingered on Stiles for a few more seconds, before he closed the door and watched him drive off.

 

***

 

He followed the small path which led to his former home, stopping a few times when his heart felt it might burst in his chest. He smelled the house before he saw it, ginger and cinnamon, polished wood and the faint scent of wall paint. It didn’t smell like his old home, it didn’t smell like pack, like family, like Mom’s chicken stew or Dad’s aftershave, but neither did it smell like burned down ruins, like charred flesh and death. It smelled like Laura instead, smelled hopeful and new and Derek didn’t know what he had imagined, but he knew this wasn’t it. The house didn’t look like anything he had imagined either, he realized a minute or so later, when he saw the building that had taken the place of the old house. The house had roughly the same size as their old one, but instead of being completely made of wood, Laura had apparently decided to face the lower part of the walls with stone. There was a huge window, taking up most of the upper storey and he could make out two balconies on the sides. This wasn’t home, and even though Derek was sure that this would, in fact, make everything easier for him, part of him felt disappointed.

He took a deep breath when he walked along the last part of the small path that led to the house, taking the few stairs up to the front porch. He could do that. He could knock, he could face his sister, he could go in there without being reminded of how many people died here, on the same ground Derek was standing on. He could do that. He lifted his hand, but before his knuckles had the chance to touch the door, it flew wide open. His sister was standing in front of him, clad in a loose woolen sweater and leggings, both her hands clasped over her mouth. Her cheeks were red from tears and she shook her head, sobbing when Derek put his arms around her.

“I knew it was you,” she whispered between sobs, burying her nose into his collarbone. “I knew you were close since yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you call yesterday?”

Derek swallowed. He buried his nose in Laura’s neck, taking in the scent of his alpha and pulled her even closer. He fought the tears, which were most likely about to come any moment.

“I… I didn’t know if I could do it, coming here, I mean,” he muttered and already felt tears in his eyes. He had missed her. He hadn’t even realized how much he had missed her, but now, standing here with her, smelling her, he felt the same relief as back when he was a kid and had hurt himself, when she would sit with him and hug him, comfort him until he was fully healed again. He had been smaller than her back then, and she would cradle him in her arms when no one was looking, kiss his forehead and tell him everything was going to be alright and she wouldn’t tell Mom he was clumsy and injured himself all the time. Now he was taller than her, almost by a head, and she was the one who was crying, well, she was crying more loudly than he was, he noticed, because his eyes had already filled with tears, which were running down his cheeks, clouding his vision.

“I missed you, you huge idiot,” Laura told him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He was. He shouldn’t have done this - shouldn’t have refused to see her. They both shouldn’t have. They were pack, and this was all that mattered.

Then, a moment later, “I missed you, too.”

 

***

 

Derek followed Laura into the house after his sister had cleared her throat. He still had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder when they reached the kitchen. It was beautiful, he had to admit, huge and so, so different from their old kitchen - instead of a big table, which would fit all pack members, the kitchen now was spacier, with bright light shining in from the windows.

“I wanted all of it to be different,” Laura said, pulling out two mugs from the kitchen cupboard. “I hope that’s okay with you, I mean, I… I didn’t want to live in a constant reminder of what happened, so I thought it would be better like this,” she whispered. She looked tired with her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her eyes puffy from crying.

“It’s… it’s okay,” Derek told her.

They sat in the living room after that, drinking coffee and talking about Derek’s life back in Harvard, Laura’s life in Beacon Hills, but they didn’t breach anything important. Not how it had been more than a year since Laura decided to move away from Boston and back to Beacon Hills, how they hadn’t talked to each other for months and how even when they had started talking again, it hadn’t been the same. They didn’t talk about why Derek didn’t want to come back. Didn’t talk about Kate.

“You smell different,” Laura told him out of the blue and Derek frowned. Of course he did. Stiles’ scent was all over him, had been for weeks now. Not even showering in the morning had changed that.

Derek shrugged and changed the topic to something else, something that wasn’t Stiles. For some reason, he didn’t want to talk to his sister about him, at least not yet.

“So, where have you spent the night?” Laura asked him and Derek knew he couldn’t lie to her. “At a friend’s place,” he therefore said.

“Why? You could've come here.”

“It was late already.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but not the truth either.

“Not that late. And you know I’m a night owl.”

Derek sighed. “Do you really want me to spell it out for you?” he growled, looking at his hands. “I freaked out. I panicked on the way here and I- if it wasn’t for - I almost went back to the airport.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to come here. I wanted to see you again, but I didn’t want to come back here ever again.”

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Laura said, putting a hand on his shoulder. She leaned against him and he decided to let his wolf gain the upper hand for a moment, who happily curled against the presence of his alpha. Laura squeezed his shoulder, her eyes flashing red for a moment.

“Wanna see the rest of the house?”

“Sure.”

They went upstairs, and to his surprise, Laura had made a room ready for him.

“I hoped you would come back some day,” she admitted. “Do you like it?”

Derek actually liked it - the room had a big bed in the center and he noticed the PlayStation which was shoved into the shelf underneath the TV. There were some photos of the two of them from when Laura had still been in college and Derek noticed how young both of them looked on them.

“Thanks,” he muttered, remembering the argument he had had with his mom years ago, when he had wanted a bigger bed and she had seen no reason for it and he quickly moved back into the hallway, avoiding Laura’s glance.

 

***

 

He went to sleep rather early, exhausted and tired. He pulled out his phone from his backpack, unsurprised when he saw that Stiles had texted him a couple times.

 

Stiles: _You ok?_

Stiles: _If you need me to get you, tell me_

Stiles: _Did she eat you?_

Stiles: _Alphas don’t eat their betas do they_

Stiles: _come on i’m worried tell me if you’re ok_

Derek: **I’m okay, Stiles. No need to worry. I forgot to check my phone.**

Stiles: _oh. glad you’re ok. how’s your sis?_

Derek: **She’s glad I’m back, I guess.**

Stiles: _you can crash at my place if you’re not ready to sleep there, just fyi_

Derek: **Thank you, Stiles.**

 

Derek smiled. There was much more to this casual remark and they both knew it, they just never talked about the fact that they hardly ever slept in their own beds. Derek sat down on his bed, musing how strange it would feel to not have a body pressed against him.

 

Stiles: _kinda strange to have a room for myself, it’s so quiet_

Derek: **And it is strange to have a bed that’s actually comfortable.**

Stiles: _haha, i feel u_

Derek: **Good night, Stiles, I’m going to sleep now.**

Stiles: _gn8, text me if you wanna meet some time, k?_

Derek: **Sure.**

Stiles: _is this a “i will text you” sure or an “in your dreams” sure? cause idk_

Derek: **I will text you. Good night.**

 

Derek put his phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers. It was quiet; Stiles was right - even though he could hear his sister downstairs, it wasn’t quite the same as having Stiles breathing and talking next to him, often using his hands as extensions to his mouth when he talked. He closed his eyes, focusing on Stiles for a bit more instead of where he was, because thinking of the house would lead to thinking of his family, and this time Stiles wasn’t there to keep him from having nightmares.

He was glad he was here, though. He didn’t feel any better, but he hadn’t expected it, but at least his wolf was happy that he and his sister were reunited; he felt calmer in direct vicinity of his alpha. Mom would have loved how Laura had rebuilt the house, Derek thought before he could lead his thoughts into a different direction. But as soon as the thought was in his head, a small voice told him that if it hadn’t been for him, Laura wouldn’t have had the need to rebuild the house in the first place. If it hadn’t been for his own idiocy, his family would still be alive.

He had tears in his eyes before he could completely comprehend what he was thinking, and a few seconds later, Laura stood in the room, looking at him, helpless and desperate.

“Derek, what…” she started, crawling in next to him and putting her arms around him.

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, though, not even close, so Derek shook his head and clasped his hands around her. He felt Laura’s fingers gently stroking his hair, heard her whisper ‘it’s okay,’ over and over.

“It’s not,” Derek said after a while, “it’ll never be okay for me, Laura.”

“Der,” she said, looking at him. “You have to move on. What happened was awful, but you can’t do anything about it. Neither of us can.” She kissed his forehead. “Mom wouldn’t want you to be stuck in the past like that.”

“I killed them,” Derek said toneless. “The fire was my fault, I killed them!”

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek,” Laura muttered, and even in the dark he could see tears in her eyes. “Kate Argent burned our house down. Kate Argent put a ring of mountain ash around it so that no one could get out.”

Derek shook his head. “I was the one who let Kate in. I was the one who told her everything. I was the one who believed every lie she told me, that she loved me.” He swallowed. “The day before the fire she’d told me she had a surprise waiting for me when I came home from school. I… I should’ve…” His voice broke and tears filled his eyes, but Laura’s attempt to comfort him didn’t stop him from crying.

“You were sixteen, you didn’t know better.”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue.

“You know what Uncle Peter taught us about blue eyes, right? A beta’s eyes are blue when he took an innocent life. So whatever you believe, it’s my fault they’re dead, because my eyes are blue since the day of the fire.”

“I won’t accept that it’s a 16-year-old boy’s fault who didn’t know any better than to trust the beautiful girl he met,” Laura said quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Derek said, because he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Should I stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you here? You said you didn’t want to come here, but why did you?” Laura asked after a while and Derek pretended to sleep. Why was he?

His wolf was happy about his alpha sleeping next to him, but it took Derek a long time to finally fall asleep.

 

***

 

The air was full with the smell of cookies, chocolate, and cinnamon and _Last Christmas_ was playing at a deafening volume when Derek pulled the shopping cart around the corner. Laura had insisted on going shopping for a proper Christmas dinner, as it had been too long since they’d had one.

“Do you even know how to make roast turkey?” Derek asked over his shoulder while he tried to find all the ingredients for the side dishes.

“I watched a YouTube tutorial, I’m pretty sure I’m prepared,” Laura said with a shrug.

“So pizza it is this year,” Derek mumbled to himself, but he nevertheless dumped onions and mushrooms into the cart.

“Hey, Derek!”

Derek turned around to see Stiles in front of him, a ridiculously large ham in his hands.

“Dad sent me to get some ‘reasonably sized’ ham, but that’s the only one left, so he’s got to deal with it. How are you?”

“I’m good. Laura wants to make roast turkey.” He shrugged.

“We never make turkey since Christmas is so close to Thanksgiving and- oh God, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Stiles’ eyes widened at what he had just said, but Derek just shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“So, you free some time after Christmas?” Stiles asked with a cock of his head, but before Derek could answer, Laura peeked around the corner.

“You must be Laura,” Stiles said immediately, his hand stretched out. “I’m Stiles, Derek’s roommate.”

Laura glared at Stiles for a moment before she took his hand.

“You’re the Stilinski kid, aren’t you? The sheriff’s son?”

“The one and only,” Stiles grinned. “My dad told me to hurry, so I’m sorry but I can’t stay to chat,” he said with an easy smile. He turned around to Derek, pulling him into a one-armed hug, which lasted a tad longer than it should.

“Merry Christmas,” he said and turned his head back to Laura. “You, too.”

“You should come over some time,” Laura said with a predatory smile on her lips.

Stiles blinked at her, then shrugged. “Sure, I can do that,” he said before he jogged to the checkout counter.

“What was that?” Derek hissed at his sister.

“Shouldn’t _I_ be the one asking you that?”

 

***

 

“So why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” Laura asked when they got home. Derek blinked at her, confused.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he muttered, frowning.

“You _reek_ of the Stilinski kid,” his sister explained with a shrug, “and he smells like you. You smell like you’ve been touching regularly and the way your heartbeat quickened when you saw him tells me there’s something I don’t know.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Derek said. “I… I slept in his bed the night I arrived in town. I panicked and he calmed me down.”

“That’s not the first time he did that, am I right?”

Derek nodded. There was no use lying to his alpha.

“But aren’t you worried you could shift into your beta form in your sleep?”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “He knows about us. I told him. Or… he figured it out and confronted me. But he’s okay with it.”

“Of course he did. He hasn’t changed much in all those years, has he?”

Derek shook his head, his smile broader. He knew Laura was referring to the one time Stiles had asked to touch Derek’s fangs when they were kids.

They stopped talking for a while and Laura watched him with a grin that was borderline scary.

“He’s cute,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“He’s infuriating. He talks too much, he has no brain-to-mouth filter, he makes me watch awful movies, he is completely illogical sometimes, he can’t sit still… When he first moved into our room, he instantly expected me to be his friend. I didn’t even have a chance.”

“You have a crush on him, don’t you?” Laura asked.

Derek was about to shake his head, but stopped. Was it a crush? He hadn’t have one in years and he had never really thought about it before. Fact was, he liked Stiles. A lot. A lot more than he would’ve ever thought it was possible to like him. And he wanted to be near him more often than not. He felt safe in his presence. And… he wanted to touch him. Not only just hug, but kiss him like the one time they did after they woke up, desperately and clumsily and gently - the kiss hadn’t been perfect at all, with their morning breath and their teeth getting in their way, but he had felt so content, so at ease for a couple moments.

“Yes,” he answered eventually, then, “I’m so screwed.”

Laura tilted her head and put her hand on his shoulder, an unasked question on her lips.

“He doesn’t feel that way,” Derek told her. “He’s in love with this girl, Lydia.” Because no matter how close the two of them were, no matter how often they slept in the same bed and comforted each other, Stiles never shut up about how perfect Lydia Martin was.

“I could’ve sworn,” Laura muttered, then shook her head. “Sorry, Derek. Maybe he’ll come around,” she told him before she went into the kitchen to store away their groceries.

 

***

 

They _did_ have to order pizza on Christmas Eve. Cooking had been a disaster, Laura had managed to both oversalt the stuffing and burn the turkey and during the whole cooking procedure, Derek had only been able to think about the poor bird which had had to let its life for Laura’s kitchen experiments. In the end, Laura had shrugged, laughing helplessly at herself, and they had settled in front of the TV, watching _Home Alone_.

“You changed somehow,” Laura said all of a sudden and Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Elaborate?”

“Well… you seem to be a bit more outgoing, you smile more. You’re… you’re a lot more like old you again.” She didn’t need to tell him what she meant. He could understand it perfectly well - she was talking about before the fire. Before Kate.

Derek shrugged. He didn’t feel particularly different, but maybe she had a point.

When they went to sleep, Laura slipped into his bed again, snuggling against him and he had to think about how loud it had been in the house on Christmas Eve, how excited everyone had been for the next day. He remembered not being able to sleep because their little sister, Cora, wouldn’t shut up about hearing Santa coming down the chimney. Now he couldn’t fall asleep because of how quiet it was. A side glance to Laura, who was staring at the ceiling with her eyes full of tears, told him she was feeling the same, so he squeezed her hand. Eventually, they fell asleep, desperately clinging onto each other.

 

***

 

They didn’t have any plans for Christmas Day, so they slept in. Laura was awake before Derek and woke him eventually. “Merry Christmas, Der,” she said with a small smile. “I made coffee.”

When he went into the kitchen, a present wrapped in green gift wrap was sitting on the table. Derek had his own Christmas present in his hands, rumpled from having been inside his suitcase in between his clothes.

“You got me something?” Laura asked with a broad grin.

“I… yeah.” He stretched out his arm to hand her the present, but she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug instead.

“I missed you, baby bro,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry for not having shown up earlier.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I get it. You couldn’t. I’m sorry for having pressured you into coming, I just… you deal with this a lot differently than I do.”

Her gaze fell on the present in her hands. “Can I open it?”

“Sure.” Derek nodded and found himself in a second hug when his sister found the carved wolf inside.

“Did you make that yourself?” Laura asked with a husky voice, which told Derek she was close to tears again.

He nodded. “I got into carving again this summer. I did a couple of things and kind of thought about you when carving this wolf.”

“You know I always loved your carved stuff,” Laura told him. In their old house, Derek had had a whole room for his carvings, but they had burned with the house. Despite Laura’s attempts, Derek had never really been thinking about carving again until this summer, this damned summer when he had felt so lonely the entire time and his wolf had barely been able to stand the distance between him and his alpha. So he had started carving again, reluctantly. But somehow it had made him feel closer to Laura and had put his wolf at ease.

“Now open mine,” Laura said, sitting down at the table and watching him excitedly.

Derek carefully picked up the present and began to unwrap it. It was square and had sharp edges, but he couldn’t exactly tell what it was from only holding it in his hands.

“Maybe it’s better if you sit down,” Laura told him, so he did, frowning at her.

When he finally unwrapped it, the present almost fell out of his hands.

Pictures. A picture of their mom, smiling at the camera with baby Cora in her hands, Derek, still a toddler himself, staring at his sister in awe. A picture of Derek, riding piggyback on Uncle Peter, who walked through knee-high grass with Marcus and Stephen, Derek’s brothers, next to him, all four of them grinning. A third picture, of their mom cradling Cora in her arms and Dad bending over to her, kissing Mom on her cheek, both of them blushing. And a fourth, of Derek sitting on the couch crammed in between Marcus and Laura, with his eyes half closed and his head on Laura’s shoulder. Marcus was on the verge of falling over from giggling, while

Laura only smirked, looking tired herself.

Derek had to put down the pictures on the table, the frames hitting the glass with a ‘clonk’ because his hands were shaking so much.

“Where did you get those?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Remember when we went to Mom’s friends over the summer? I guess you don’t, you can’t have been older than three. They live somewhere around Santa Rosa. Anyway, they contacted me last year, said they found a whole lot of pictures of us in their attic and asked me if I wanted to have them, since… since we don’t have any pictures left.”

“There are more?” Derek asked, his voice shaking.

“Yeah. Some of Peter and Aunt Caroline, some of… of Stephen and Marcus and of me and Cora… and of Mom and Dad of course. Do you… do you want to see them?”

Derek shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t look at them.”

“It took me months,” Laura admitted. “They’re the first pictures I’ve seen of them since…”

Derek nodded. “They look so happy, Laura, like nothing could ever go wrong and I… “

He wiped away the tears from his eyes and let himself fall into Laura’s arms.

“I’m sorry, this was an awful idea,” Laura muttered, hugging him. “I didn’t think, I… I didn’t think you would react like this, I’m an idiot, because my reaction wasn’t that different,” she said, helplessly patting his back.

“No, it’s - it’s okay Laura. They’re perfect.”

It would take a while until Derek could look at them without tearing up, but he would make it.

“They’re perfect,” Derek repeated, kissing Laura’s forehead.

“I love you, baby bro,” Laura said with teary eyes and a shaky voice.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Last Christmas_ is of course the much loved and hated song by Wham!. 
> 
> Huge thanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle) once more for everything. 
> 
> Come say hi to us on tumblr:[Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)


	14. Chapter 14

[ ](http://imgur.com/iEx779E)

 

 

# Chapter 14

## Stiles was totally not in love with Derek. Nope. That was not a thing- Yeah who was he even kidding.

 

When Stiles got into his jeep after meeting Derek and Laura at the supermarket, he slammed his head against the steering wheel three times before he could start the engine. The way his heart had scrambled in his chest when he had ran into Derek had been absolutely ridiculous. He took a few deep breaths and then started the jeep, trying to forget the way Derek's hazel eyes, the normal ones, not the wolfy blue ones, had fixated on him, like he could see all the way through his defenses.

He did finally start the jeep and head towards his house, but he could not get Derek out of his head. Not when he almost ran over a red light, not when he unloaded all the groceries and started preparing dinner for his dad, and least of all when he was trying to fall asleep that night.

He was so screwed.

 

***

 

The Stilinski-McCall Christmas Celebration was quiet as usual. It was the Stilinskis’ turn for Christmas dinner and the McCalls' for breakfast on Christmas morning. They had started the routine after Stiles' mom's death, when he and his dad had been too caught up in their grief to care much about holidays. Melissa and Scott had forced them into celebrating anyway, and it had turned out the four of them made a pretty good team, so it had become a tradition ever since.

The sheriff and Melissa were sitting in the McCall Living room, drinking coffee after breakfast while Stiles and Scott were doing the dishes.

“Think those two will ever admit that they’re in love?” Stiles asked grinning, jerking his head towards the living room.

Scott laughed. “I don’t know, man. You’d think they’d have realized by now.”

“It would be a lot cheaper, too,” Stiles said thoughtfully. “We could sell one of the houses, we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth between them when we’re home…”

Scott grinned, handing Stiles a new dish towel. “Speaking of…” he started after a moment of hesitation. “Have you heard from Derek?”

Stiles swallowed. “How is this a speaking of?”

“Just answer the question, Stiles.”

“Well… We text sometimes. So what?”

Scott gave a half smile. “So nothing. It was just a question, dude.”

Stiles glared at him. “Yeah right.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s just. You’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately and I was wondering if there was something you haven’t told me…?”

Stiles was about to come up with an appalled reply but then he realized it was no use. Scott knew him better than anyone.

“Yeah, so what. We text and that’s it. And if I find him ridiculously attractive, not just because of his looks, but because of the dark and pained aspect of his personality that could have come straight out of a romantic novel, then that is totally not relevant for this conversation.”  
Scott grinned. “Finally. I thought you’d never admit it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He had to grin despite of himself. Scott really took his promise to be nicer when it came to Derek seriously.

“Hey, dude,” Scott said, poking him in the side. “He might actually like you back, you know? He’s so different around you than around anyone else.”

Stiles sighed. “Please don’t go there? I mean. Maybe, yeah. But I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t think I could handle the rejection. And I actually enjoy being his friend, so… I don’t want to ruin that.” Scott nodded. “I get it. I do. But… why don’t you text him? You guys should hang out while you’re here. And you have a present to hand over anyway.”

“How do you know I have a present for him?”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, okay, I know.”

 

***

 

Stiles: _Hey grumpy_

Derek: **_Hey…?_**

Stiles: _Wow you sound so happy to hear from me_

Derek: **_How are you, Stiles?_**

Stiles: _Peachy. how about you?_

Derek: **_I’m good._**

Stiles: _Good._

Derek: **_Did you need anything specific from me?_**

Stiles: _Charming as ever_

Derek: **_Stiles?_**

Stiles: _Right sorry. Just wondering if you want to come out and do something before new years?_

Derek: **_Like what?_**

Stiles: _I dont know._

Stiles: _Oh wait. do you ice skate?_

Derek: **_If by ‘do you’ you mean can I ice skate, then yes. If you mean, do I ice skate on a regular basis, then no._**

Stiles: _You literature majors and your words._

Derek: **_Tomorrow? 10?_**

Stiles: _HAHA. dont be cruel. more like 1._

Derek: **_Lazybones._**

Stiles: _YOU DID NOT JUST CALL ME LAZYBONES_

Derek: **_Goodbye, Stiles._**

Stiles: _HOW IS THAT WORD EVEN IN YOUR VOCABULARY_

Stiles: _Dude this is so damaging your bad boy image_

Derek: **_I don’t have a bad boy image._**

Stiles: _You so do._

Stiles: _Ill pick you up at 1 tomorrow?_

Derek: **_Okay. See you then._**

Stiles: _See ya._

 

***

 

Stiles: _Scott. I think I have a date with Derek._

**_Scotty: That’s great!!!!_ **

Stiles: _SCOTTY. Im freaking out here._

**_Scotty: Relax. You live with the guy. It’s not like you’re not used to spending time together!?!?_ **

Stiles: _Wow scott. you really need to revisit your best friend handbook. not helping._

**_Scotty: Stiles, I’m serious. Treat it like any other day with him. It’ll be fine._ **

Stiles: _Im never asking you for advice ever again._

**_Scotty: Have fun!!!!_ **

 

***

 

When Stiles pulled up in the Hale’s driveway, he was surprisingly calm. Scott’s advice had turned out not to be that bad after all. Stiles spent a lot of time with Derek; there was no reason this had to be different.

(Except Stiles kind of really _really_ wanted it to.)

He honked twice and got out of the car, jogging up to the door.

Which turned out to be a massively bad idea. The snow on the ground had turned into an icy plane overnight, so Stiles found himself slip, lose his balance, and fall face-first down onto the ground. Approximately 0.3 seconds later, he could hear the door open.

“Stiles?” he heard Derek ask a second later and felt two strong hands on his shoulders. “You okay?”

Stiles groaned and turned around. “Damn werewolf speed,” he muttered as he sat up, rubbing his knees.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked, trying to sound put out, but he was grinning.

“Nothing,” Stiles said darkly, frowning when he reached for his forehead. “Ouch.”

Derek frowned, taking a closer look at the small bump that was undoubtedly forming. “You know, you’re not actually supposed to start ice skating until you have the proper shoes on.”

“Haha. If you have to make fun of me, at least help me up.”

He made himself extra heavy when Derek pulled him up. “You sure you’re okay?” Derek asked again, more serious this time.

Stiles was about to answer when someone cleared their throat from the direction of the house. Stiles turned to see Laura leaning against the doorway, a mischievous spark in her eyes.

“How cute.”

“What’s cute?” Stiles asked absentmindedly, batting the snow from his jeans.

“Nothing is, right, Laura?” Derek said firmly, pulling Stiles towards the car. Stiles looked back at Laura, giving her a helpless shrug.

She just grinned and waved at them. “Have fun, boys. Curfew’s 10,” she said with a wink and closed the door behind her.

“She enjoys my suffering,” Stiles muttered darkly as he fastened his seatbelt and started the car. Derek chuckled and slammed the passenger door shut. “It’s her way of saying she likes you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the driveway. “I’m sure. So, how was Christmas?”

“Good.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and gave him a quick, disbelieving glance.

“Hey, it was! Emotionally exhausting but… good,” Derek said, his voice suddenly very small.

Stiles bit his lip to keep himself from commenting. He hadn’t expected this honest an answer.

“So I did good by dragging you back here?” he asked smiling.

“Well.”

“What?”

“You did well.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Is this the only way you can admit I was right? By correcting my grammar?”

“You should concentrate on the road.”

Stiles just snorted.

 

***

 

“So, I say after we’re done here, we’re going to the movies and pick the movie with the absolute worst title and then sit in the back row so we can make fun of it,” Stiles said matter-of-factly as he tied his rented skating shoes.

Derek snorted. “Sure, why not. Food before, though?”

“Yeah, I thought that was self explanatory.”

Derek grinned. “Right.”

Stiles finished tying his shoes and stepped onto the ice, turning to wait for Derek. He could already feel the familiar pull he always felt on the ice. He absolutely needed to just race around the rink, like, this second.

“First one to go ‘round the ring three times doesn’t pay for drinks tonight,” he called and raced away from him as soon as Derek had both his feet on the ice. He didn’t even listen for a reaction, too focused on not running any of the other people over. Thankfully, there were only a couple of others besides them and Stiles beat Derek easily, leaning against the railing, waiting.

“Who’s lazy now?” he smirked, poking Derek in the stomach when he finally got there. Derek gaped at him. “Why is it that you are so _incredibly_ clumsy at literally _everything_ , but then you’re amazing at this?”

Stiles blushed slightly. “Aww, don’t worry, Der, I can teach you my tricks if you want.” He grabbed Derek’s hands and easily started skating backwards.

They chased each other around the rink for a while and soon Stiles was giggling like a school girl. He could barely remember having had this much fun in the past few months.

At some point Derek lost track of Stiles’ location for a moment and Stiles seized the opportunity to carefully sneak up behind him and then accelerate at the last moment to then slam into his back. “Gotcha,” he said grinning, poking Derek in the side a few times before letting go of him.

When Derek turned around to face him, his expression was so dark and broody, it had Stiles leap away and chase across the ice, laughing, to get away from him.

“Present time,” Stiles announced after a while, when he considered it safe enough to get within hearing distance of Derek again, pulling him off the ice. He was pleased to see Derek didn’t think anything of the comment. If Stiles had been the only one having bought a present, it would have been… awkward.

They got their bags and sat on the bleachers and Stiles got out some cookies and and a thermo bottle of tea for them, before reaching for his present for Derek.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “What was that about getting dinner later?”

Stiles grinned. “This is a _snack_ , Derek. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with dinner.”

Derek shook his head but reached for a cookie after all, handing Stiles the box he’d gotten out of his backpack. “Merry Christmas, Stiles.”

Stiles beamed at him and reached for it greedily, holding it to his ear and shaking it. Derek’s eyes widened in mock-horror. “Careful, Stiles, you can’t just shake a box with something alive inside of it!”

Stiles froze for a second but then burst out laughing. “Derek Hale, did you just make a _joke_?!” he asked when he’d calmed down.

Derek shrugged and looked down at his hands, but Stiles didn’t miss the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. He decided to be nice and didn’t comment, instead ripping the paper off to reveal… a DVD box. With twenty-two werewolf-themed movies.

Stiles blinked at it for a few seconds and then burst out laughing all over again. It took him a few minutes to calm down and wipe the tears from his eyes after that. “This is brilliant, Derek.”  
His roommate was now an even darker shade of red and Stiles leaned forward to give him a tight hug. “Thank you. Best present ever.”

Derek looked up, surprised. “You think so?”

“Absolutely. And you’re watching every single one with me.”

Derek groaned, but he relaxed a bit more. Good.

“Okay, my turn,” Stiles said excitedly and handed Derek his present. It was just a normal rectangular package but it had another small box glued to the outside. Derek put it aside and opened the bigger part first. He was really careful about not ripping or breaking anything and normally Stiles would appreciate it, but right now, all he wanted was for Derek to open it so he would see his reaction and know if he needed to be embarrassed for the rest of his life.

When Derek finally pulled the wrapping off enough to reveal _Nighthawks_ on the cover of the illustrated book he had gotten him. Stiles bit his lip, patiently waiting while Derek flipped through it. “How did you know?” he asked eventually and looked up at Stiles, something vulnerable in his eyes that Stiles wasn’t sure he had seen before.

“It’s the only thing you actually liked enough to hang up in your room. I figured you liked it. _Do you_ like it? Because I can totally return it-”

“No,” Derek said firmly, giving Stiles a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Stiles said, nodding towards the little box that was still lying next to Derek. Stiles was actually far more nervous about this one than about the book. With that, he’d had a real lead as to what Derek liked. But this was something he had really only found by accident and had just felt like buying for him.

Derek opened the box and the leather band with the silver pendant fell into Derek’s palm and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Stiles couldn’t stay still any longer.

“I saw this and it reminded me of your tattoo you know, and even though you’ve never told me what that’s about, I figure it must mean something to you, since you had someone tattoo it to your back, and all. It’s a wristband, I think, that’s what the sign said anyway, but if it’s not, I don’t know, _manly_ enough you could tie it to something else, like maybe your bag or a bookmark or whatever. If it sucks, though, you don’t have to wear it, so don’t put it on just because you think-”

Stiles would probably never have stopped talking if Derek hadn’t interrupted him. “No, I… I like it. Thank you.” His eyes were glued to the silver pendant, his thumb grazing the spirals carved into the metal.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked anxiously. “That is what your tattoo is, though, right?”

Derek opened his mouth and closed it again, still not looking away, before saying: “No, it’s-yeah I mean, sort of.” He huffed, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile. flustered Derek was… interesting. And something he hadn’t seen before. He sighed inwardly. Like he had needed another reason to like him.

“Why sort of?” Stiles asked. He was genuinely curious. They had never talked about the meaning of Derek’s tattoo before.

Derek showed him the pendant and explained, tracing his fingers along the silver lines, “The spirals are circling in the other direction.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Does it mean something?”

Derek nodded. “It’s used to teach young werewolves in our family control. something to anchor themselves to. _Alpha, beta, omega_.”

He broke off, and Stiles could tell he was too lost in thought to elaborate, but that was okay. Stiles got the feeling he would have a lot more opportunities to ask him about it.

“You’re just going to have to find a new meaning for it then,” he said quietly, and at this Derek looked up at him, but his eyes were still clouded with thoughts. “Yeah, I guess,” he said and then his eyes cleared. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” He gave Stiles him a genuine smile. He really, really should do that more often, Stiles thought, hoping Derek and his super senses would pay attention to the way his heart stuttered in his chest.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles said grinning and before he could even really react, Derek had reached for him and pulled him into a tight hug.

He let go much too early for Stiles’ taste, but the look on his face was worth it. “So… not a terrible idea then?”

Derek shook his head. “Not at all.”

Stiles grinned. “I’m glad.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully and then slipped the leather band over his wrist.

“Thank you,” he said again, but Stiles just shook his head, smiling.

 

***

 

They had Italian before going to the movies and then laughed through almost the entire thing because it was so terrible. Stiles wasn’t even trying to pretend they weren’t sitting extremely close together. It wasn’t like Derek couldn’t hear his heartbeat. He _must_ know there was something there anyway.

Later, when they got into the jeep and Stiles thought that this was something he could do. He could spend a whole day with Derek, never get bored, and then not want to go home. He wanted to do it again tomorrow. And again. And-

“Stiles are you okay?”

Stiles blinked and quickly looked over at Derek before focusing on the road. “I- yeah why?”

“You just seem… anxious.”

Stiles glanced over at him and saw that his brows were furrowed with worry. He had to hold back a smile. “I‘m fine. Too much soda, I guess.”

If Derek caught the lie he didn’t say anything and they spent the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. Stiles got out of the car with Derek when they reached the Hale house, and leaned against the hood of the jeep, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“That was fun.”

Derek smiled and looked down at his shoes. Stiles decided to cut him some slack and ignore the fact that he was blushing.

“So I’ll see you…?” he trailed off, realizing they hadn’t actually made any more plans yet.

“New Year’s?” Derek asked, looking up. “Laura said we should invite some people to our place. Make it feel more… lived in or something.”

Stiles was about to enthusiastically agree before he realized.

“Goddamn it. Sorry. I would love to, but I made New Year’s plans with Scott.” He bit his lip, cursing himself for making plans so early on.

Derek shrugged. “Bring him. Allison too.” Then he frowned and his eyes were back on his feet. “Unless you don’t want to of course. I’d understand if-”

“Oh shut up, you giant dork. We’ll be there.”

Derek looked up, his eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Derek, really.” He sighed and stepped forward, giving him a tight hug.

“Thanks for the invitation,” he said after reluctantly stepping away.

Derek nodded, not saying anything, but he looked relaxed. Stiles could live with that.

“Night, Derek. And thank you again for the present. It’s awesome.”

“You too. Thanks for driving me home.”

“Don’t mention it.”

 

***

 

Stiles was still grinning when he got home that night, unable to help himself. He wasn’t even fazed by his father’s question about how his date had been. Because that _totally_ had been a date.

That thought kept him in a good mood for the next few days, even though he and Derek didn’t talk much. They texted occasionally, but Stiles had the feeling Derek had a lot of catching up to do with his sister. He was not going to do Derek the favor of distracting him from that.

A day before New Year's Eve, Stiles was concentrating hard on getting out of a particularly nasty ruin in _Skyrim_ when the house phone rang. He cursed when the mage he was fighting shot chunk of ice through his chest, but took the opportunity to run downstairs and get the phone.

“Hello?”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice sounded familiar, but Stiles couldn’t quite place it… “It’s Laura. Derek’s sister?”

“Oh hi! What’s up?” Stiles couldn’t help but be a little worried. Why would Laura call-

“I just wanted to check in with you and see if you guys are really coming tomorrow? Because of food and stuff.”

“Oh!”, Stiles said grinning, “Right. Yeah, we’re coming. That’s Scott, his girlfriend Allison, his mom and my dad. I mean. If that’s okay?” He bit his lip. “I probably should have said something earlier. Sorry about that.”

“Oh no, don’t worry, it’s great!” She sounded genuinely cheerful and Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how much company she’d had during the time Derek was gone. “We’re happy to have you.”

“Awesome, thank you. Anything we should bring? I could make dessert?”

“Nope, we have it covered. Thanks though!”

“Sure,” Stiles said with a smile. He liked Laura.

“So listen…” she said then, almost carefully. Ah, Stiles thought, there it was. Her real reason for calling.

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything that you did for my brother.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. He had not seen that coming.

“What, being a pain in his ass? Oh, believe me, it’s my pleasure.” He only realized what he’d said after Laura had already burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, no. That is _not_ what I mean, jeez.”

“Of course not,” Laura laughed back and he wanted to say something, _anything_ , but he was laughing as well and it took a few minutes for the two of them to calm down.

Stiles cleared his throat then and swallowed. “Right.”

Laura was still giggling. “Yeah, um, no, I was actually serious,” she said when her voice sounded normal again. “He’s been… so much better, happier. And I think you were a big part of that. So thank you. And thank you for bringing him home to me.” Her voice broke a little then and Stiles bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything.

“Don’t think I don’t know it was you. He wouldn’t have come here alone. So thank you.”

Stiles closed his eyes. “Don’t mention it, really. He was miserable without you. I was just helping out a friend.” The lie burned on his tongue and he was glad there were no werewolves around to notice.

“Even if that was all you did, it was more than anyone has done for him in a while.”

Stiles smiled bitterly. “Yeah, I guess.”

He heard Laura exhale on the other end of the line before she spoke again.

“Anyways. Tomorrow, 8pm?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. Then I’ll see you guys then.”

“Yeah. Bye, Laura.”

“Goodbye Stiles.”

Stiles hung up and stared at the phone in his hand for a few seconds before shaking his head and heading back upstairs to deal with that stupid mage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> As always, huge thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com). 
> 
> You can find us on tumblr:[Helena ](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)& [Julie ](honeywolf.tumblr.com)  
> See you on Friday with a New Year's party and, you got it, lots of feels ;)


	15. Chapter 15

 [](http://imgur.com/NuP9DTG)

 

# Chapter 15

## Tension /ˈtenʃ(ə)n/: noun - a strained relationship between individuals

 

“Thanks for inviting us, man,” Scott said with a smirk and went straight into the kitchen to put the beer he brought into the fridge. Allison stopped in front of Derek, looking uncertain. “I wasn’t sure if I was welcome,” she told him with a shrug, “Stiles told me you were okay with me coming over, but…”

“It’s okay,” Derek said. He still didn’t actually _like_ Allison, but she was Scott’s girlfriend and since Stiles insisted to invite Scott, he felt kind of obligated to invite her, too.

Laura went out of the living room, smiling. “You must be Scott and Alli, right?”

They shook hands and Laura handed them two pairs of her ridiculous party hats, which said 2015 on them (Derek had been forced to wear one, too, his was bright pink and he felt like an idiot) and Scott and Allison looked about as delighted about them as Derek felt.

“Stiles should be here soon,” Scott told them and Derek felt his lips curling up involuntarily. He hadn’t seen his roommate in three days now. They had been ice skating on Friday and had gone to the movies afterwards to watch some awful action movie, but it had been fun anyway because Stiles had started making inappropriate comments as soon as it had been clear the movie was bullshit, so they had whispered and laughed and it had felt like a date even though it hadn’t been one. When Stiles had driven Derek back home, they had only hugged and even though Stiles’ arms had lingered around him for a few moments more than necessary, Stiles had just pulled away and smirked at him, wishing him a good night and closing the door behind him.

“Hey, grumpy,” he heard behind him and he turned around only to see Stiles in front of him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You completely tuned out there for a moment,” he told him.

Derek pushed his glasses up his nose to distract from the blush spreading out on his cheeks.

“You can put your stuff in the fridge if there’s still enough space,” he muttered, not focusing at all on Stiles’ long fingers, which were wrapped around the Tupperware box.

Derek greeted the sheriff with a firm handshake and Laura announced dinner was ready, so they gathered around the table. Somehow, Stiles ended up next to him. They had lasagna, since after the Christmas turkey debacle last week, Laura refrained from experimenting and instead had prepared something she knew how to cook. It was delicious and all of them ate happily - Laura asked the sheriff a myriad of inappropriate questions about his job, which had Scott wrinkle his nose and Stiles giggle quietly. At some point Scott and Allison begun feeding each other until Stiles pretended to puke. Derek smiled for a moment - dinner was loud and messy and they were too many people gathered around the small table, but it reminded him of his family, and for once that was a good thing. He noticed a movement next to him and raised his eyebrows when Stiles’ fork came into view. His roommate gave him a smirk and stole the cheese crust from his plate.

“What are you-”

“I just really like cheese? Come on, I’m your guest.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Derek blinked. Well, Stiles was right, so he just shrugged and continued eating his now cheese-less lasagna.

Although Stiles and Scott weren’t 21 yet, the sheriff turned a blind eye to the beer Scott had brought, and so, an hour later, after they had eaten until Derek felt close to exploding, Stiles followed Derek to his room with a bottle of beer in his hand. He had already almost emptied it and smelled tipsy and content when he sat down on Derek’s bed.

“That’s a big bed,” he declared, putting the bottle on the ground and stretching out his arms when he let himself fall back into it.

“Indeed.”

“Just… imagine having beds like this in the dorms, instead of those awful, narrow things.” He grabbed Derek’s pillow and snuggled it, burying his cheek into it.

“But there’s no way two of them would fit into our room,” Derek said with a shrug, trying his best to ignore the way Stiles’ mouth was half open and his hands rested on the pillow. The way the pillow would smell afterwards, he wouldn’t be able to ever wash it again.

“We don’t need two beds now, do we,” Stiles said, sitting up again and squinting his eyes at Derek. “Fuck, I didn’t even have a whole bottle and I’m drunk.”

Derek only swallowed and nodded, looking at his shoes, so he didn’t have to look at Stiles lying on his bed, when the younger man got up again to stand in front of him, pointing his finger at his chest. He bent down to get his beer and emptied the bottle with a gulp or two before he pointed his finger at Derek again.

“I’ve never seen you fully wolfed out,” he said, circling the empty bottle in his hand.

“You saw my eyes, fangs and claws, isn’t that enough? Also, Scott and Allison said they’d come upstairs, we really shouldn’t do this,” Derek told him, his eyebrows arched.

“Buuuut,” Stiles drawled, “I want to see your… eh, beta form. And don’t you have superhuman hearing? Can’t you just, tell when they come upstairs and change back to not-so-hairy you?” He giggled. “Get it? Because you’re still hairy with your scruff and your… scruff.”

“Laura told you about how my eyebrows vanish, right?”

Stiles smirked. “Maybe? Come on, I really want to see Derek, the big bad wolf.”

“Idiot,” Derek muttered and Stiles grinned and shrugged. “Come on Der-bear, show it to me,” he said with a mock-flirting tone that made Derek swallow hard.

“Okay. But, try not to freak out.”

“Sure thing.”

Derek studied Stiles’ facial expressions while he felt his face change form - his ears elongated, hair sprouted on the sides of his face, his nose took a slightly more canine form, and he involuntarily let out a growl when his human teeth changed into fangs. Stiles’ smile vanished from his lips, a look of pure excitement taking over when he gaped at him.

“Dude, your eyebrows are gone for real,” he muttered, stepping closer. “I just witnessed you sprouting sideburns and growing fangs in ten seconds, this is so freaking cool.” He tilted his head, rubbing his eyes. “You look so much better than that guy from _An American Werewolf in London_ , and they got an Oscar for best makeup. Seriously. This. Is. Amazing.”

Derek nodded, slightly confused. This was not the normal reaction for someone seeing a completed beta shift for the first time, right? Then again, it was Stiles, and whatever he was, normal wasn’t it. He closed his eyes when Stiles stretched out his hand to hover over his sideburns for a moment, barely touching him before pulling his hand away.

“Derek?” he asked a second later.

“Hm?”

“This’ll probably come out weird but… can I touch your ears? I kinda have to make sure what I see is real.” There was a tremble in his voice and his breath was hot against Derek’s cheek.

Derek nodded, holding his breath as Stiles’ fingers touched the tips of his ears, brushing over the skin, tracing their shape. The fingers moved away from his ears, and Derek dared to open his eyes for a moment, watching Stiles staring at him with round eyes and his tongue stuck out between his lips a bit. His fingers brushed against his nose and forehead, touched his sideburns and suddenly moved down to his lips, where he stopped for a moment. Stiles’ thumb rested on the corner of his lips and Derek hadn’t noticed his mouth was open up to the second Stiles gently touched one of his fangs. He tried his best not to move, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, but Derek ignored his own, frantic heartbeat, ignored the sweet, sweet smell of Stiles’ fingers, ignored Stiles’ breath still against his cheek, way too close. He couldn’t stop shivering, though, not when Stiles looked up to him, with a lopsided, unsure grin on his face.

“Your fangs are really badass,” he told him and Derek forced himself to smirk. Stiles’ hand lingered on his face for another moment - when did they get so close? Stiles was only a few inches away from him, his face so close it would be ridiculously easy to kiss him.

He only heard Allison and Scott approaching when they already opened the door and had barely enough time to turn around and change back.

“Hey guys, it’s almost midnight,” Scott said, looking at them with a funny expression. “You should come downstairs.” If Stiles looked somewhat flustered, Derek chose to blame it on the alcohol.

 

***

 

Derek took a seat next to the sheriff, while Scott, Allison, and Stiles were off to God knows where, talking about people he didn’t know, and Laura went downstairs to get some champagne. The sheriff looked at him for a long moment, studying him intensely and for some reason Derek didn’t dare to look away.

“You seem like a nice guy, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski told him, his expression serene.

“Thanks?” Derek tried with raised eyebrows.

“I just want you to know that if you ever think about hurting my son in any way, I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

Derek swallowed. “I… don’t intend to hurt Stiles, sir.”

“I know you don’t intend to, son, but -,” he stopped when Stiles and Scott were coming back from the kitchen. “Anyway. I know how to use a gun. Keep that in mind.”

“Don’t go around threatening people with your gun, Dad, Derek hasn’t done anything,” Stiles said, laughing.

“I suppose he hasn’t,” the sheriff said with a shrug, and Derek shook his head in confusion. He was missing out on something, he was sure of it.

Laura suggested to go outside and watch the fireworks when she came upstairs again, two bottles of champagne in her hands, so they were on their way to a small hill where they would have a nice view from a few minutes later. Stiles sat down on the cold grass the second they stopped walking, poking Derek’s leg until he sat down next to him.

“So, any New Year’s resolutions?” Stiles asked, “If not, you still have about five minutes to think of some.”

“Why would I need any?” Derek asked with a shrug.

“You could at least pretend to be a tad less perfect,” Stiles muttered and playfully hit his shoulder with a fist.

“I could, um, work out more?” Derek offered, but Stiles only let out a frustrated cry and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable, wolf-boy!”

They sat a moment in silence, only interrupted by Laura who asked if they wanted any champagne, which they both declined, Stiles claiming he was drunk enough already.

“It sucks that there’s no one there to kiss me this year,” Stiles said with a sigh when Scott and Allison started to make out two minutes to midnight.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, definitely not thinking about how frustrating it was to have the one person he wanted to kiss right in front of him. Stiles turned his head and smirked at him when the firework got intense only a minute or so to midnight. Derek turned his head too, so that both of them were staring at each other. He didn’t dare to blink, he didn’t even dare to breath, when Stiles’ lips moved, only to realize a moment later he was counting back the seconds.

“Nine, eight, seven, six.”

He could kiss him. He could dig his fingers into Stiles’ hair, pull him closer and kiss him, feel his soft lips again and his obscene, long-fingered hands on his skin and -

“Five, four, three.”

He shouldn’t, though. Stiles had made it awfully clear in his statement - no one was there to kiss him, so apparently he didn’t consider Derek someone appropriate to kiss him. Derek initiating a kiss could actually ruin Stiles’ evening, ruin their friendship even, and he did not want to risk that. Not until he wasn’t perfectly clear about what Stiles wanted.

“Two, one.”

For now, the only thing he could do was to hold back. He pulled back a little, still watching Stiles. Around them, the others cheered and Stiles bit his lip, unsure of something.

“I, um,” Stiles started, running a hand through his hair.

Had he noticed something? Had Derek said something out loud? Had he stared at Stiles too intensely?

Stiles opened his mouth to say something and Derek chose the moment to quickly bend forward and give Stiles a little peck on the cheek.

“There you have your kiss,” he muttered, standing up before he could change his mind. He glanced back to Stiles who was still sitting in the grass looking somewhat flustered.

“Happy New Year,” Derek told him.

“Happy New Year, dude,” Stiles said, getting up.

“Yeah… man,” Derek muttered, partly confused, partly frustrated, and completely ready for the ground to open up and swallow him.

 

***

They went back to Boston a day later, since Stiles had to go back to work. Derek had to promise Laura he would be back soon at least ten times before she let him go. She flashed her alpha eyes at him and he smiled at her, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck one last time, taking in her scent of family, home, and safety.

“I’ll miss you, Der,” she muttered, squeezing his shoulder.

“Miss you too,” he told her. “But… I’ll be back, okay?”

Laura nodded. “Good luck with Stiles,” she said. Derek only glared at her for a moment and shook his head, then went outside where Stiles and the sheriff were waiting for him already.

At the car rental place, Derek insisted on a different car, one that didn’t look like it was about to break down on the way to the airport. He sat down behind the wheel then, Stiles taking the shotgun seat with a frown and insisting on at least picking the music, and the two of them started talking about the assignments they still had to do, the new game Scott and Stiles had been playing and how much Stiles was worried about his dad eating curly fries too often. Still, since New Year’s, things weren’t exactly smooth between them, and so awkward conversations took turns with awkward pauses, in which neither of them knew what to say. Derek turned up the volume until it hurt, but he felt like he would blurt out something he would regret later any second now.

“Is something wrong?” Stiles asked, turning down the volume again.

“I’m just… feeling weird about leaving Laura again,” Derek muttered. It was the truth, at least partly; he hated leaving his alpha.

“But you’ll come back,” Stiles said, and it wasn’t a question as much as a statement.

“Yes, I’ll come back. Thanks for, you know. Making me come here in the first place.”

“I’m glad you came with me. Not only because you kind of needed to come here for closure and stuff, but… it would’ve been weird not being around you for so long, you know?”

“I… yeah, you’re right,” Derek said, trying his best not to think too hard about what Stiles had just said. He probably would think the same about not being around Scott.

The rest of the drive they spent in relative silence, but this time, it was a nice, comfortable silence, a silence Stiles would break from time to time to sing along to the radio, loudly and out of tune. They arrived rather early at the airport and used the gained free time to buy coffee and complain about the cold winter they were about to face again back in Boston.

“I’m feeling cold already only thinking about it,” Stiles said and all Derek could think of was that werewolves were naturally warmer than humans and he would gladly volunteer to keep Stiles warm during winter. The fact that Stiles fell asleep with his head on his shoulder about five minutes after take-off didn’t make this any better. He tried not to be incredibly obvious about studying Stiles’ features, his slightly opened mouth, and his fingers gently resting on Derek’s arm. Judging from the way the old lady across the aisle glared at him, he was failing miserably.

Since it was pretty late when they finally made it back to their dorms, he crawled into bed almost immediately. He had barely slept on their flight, his mind way too occupied with secretly lusting over Stiles, and therefore he could hardly hold his eyes open anymore. He texted Laura they had arrived without any complications, brushed his teeth in record time, and pulled the blanket over his head, ready to fall asleep.

“Derek?” Stiles asked a minute later and he peeked over the blanket to see Stiles standing between their beds with his pillow under his arm, looking at him uncertain.

“Can I…” he started, awkwardly pointed between them.

Derek nodded wordlessly and pulled back the blanket so that Stiles could crawl in next to him.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, scooting over a bit.

“Hey,” Derek muttered back, tentatively putting his arms around his waist. He had missed this, even though this was by no means the way he should handle this. Whatever _this_ was.

 

***

 

Things were as good as they could have been between them for the next few days, with Stiles dragging him to some new Chinese place before classes would start again and Derek finding himself drinking coffee and writing a paper at Starbucks when Stiles was working. At night, Stiles would wordlessly take his pillow and crawl into Derek’s bed, snuggling close to him. For a couple of days Derek felt like being in a happy little bubble, which burst brutally somewhere in the second week after winter break.

“Derek, _look_.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tried to follow the direction Stiles was pointing at. They sat in the cafeteria, for once without Scott and Allison since Allison had promised to help Scott study today. Derek wasn’t sure why they didn’t just spell out what they were doing - everyone knew what Alli and Scott did in their ‘study sessions’ since Stiles had walked in on them once.

“She’s so freaking beautiful,” Stiles said dreamily, his gaze on Lydia Martin, who sat a few tables away from them, typing on her phone. Derek shrugged. She was pretty, yes, but her lips were too red and he found the way she apparently thought of herself as something better annoying.

“I would literally do anything for her to talk to me,” Stiles said. “She’s a goddess, I don’t think there’ll ever be someone more beautiful than her.”

He really didn’t want them to, but Stiles’ comments stung. “She’s not worth swooning over,” Derek said with a gruff voice.

“Just because you can’t see real beauty, it doesn’t mean she isn’t worth it,” Stiles said. Before Stiles could say one more thing, Derek excused himself.

 

***

They didn’t talk much for the next few days, with Stiles working and spending most of his free time at Scott’s and Derek studying. It was around this time that a letter came in, telling Derek a couple rooms got free over Christmas and he could move into a single room in a few days. Derek didn’t tell Stiles, it just never seemed right. So the envelope stayed inside his desk drawer while Derek tried to figure out if moving out and keeping some distance between him and Stiles would be for the better or for the worse.

When Stiles announced they were invited to a party at Danny’s and Jackson’s, Derek’s first reaction was to tell Stiles he wouldn’t come, since he never went to parties - he usually hated the music they played there, it was too loud and there were generally too many people - but after a second thought the idea to go out and have some fun, maybe forget about Stiles for a night sounded like exactly what he needed. He didn’t take long to look for something to wear, instead spending his time on staring at Stiles who looked obscenely hot in his skinny jeans and black Henley.

“Do I look funny?” Stiles asked him eventually.

“No, you look fine.” Understatement of the century.

Jackson slung an arm around him when he opened the door for them, and Derek once again wondered how loaded the guy was exactly, because the apartment he shared with Danny seemed huge. He slipped Derek a couple of wolfsbane pills, careful to not be seen by anyone who could get the wrong idea about that, and patted him on the back.

“Fancy seeing you here, I didn’t think you’d come.”

Derek only shrugged, turning around to spot Stiles who was nowhere to be seen.

“You seen Stiles?” he asked. “He came here with me.”

Jackson smirked. “You mean the nerdy one? Your new roomie? Yeah, he went over there, probably to swoon over Lydia from the distance.” Derek nodded and went to grab a beer, spiking it with wolfsbane almost instantly. He came here to have fun, after all.

He didn’t go after Stiles; instead, he tried to find familiar faces amongst the party-goers, which apparently was more difficult than he thought. Scott wasn’t here, neither were Boyd and Erica yet, and the guy from his comparative literature class seemed to have way too much fun with himself for Derek to go bother him. Eventually, he settled on a tall, curly-haired guy who was standing in a corner, sipping from a cup. He knew him from the movie night Stiles had organized weeks ago, he was a friend of Scott’s, but he couldn’t remember his name. He nodded when he went closer, putting on a smile when he felt the wolfsbane rushing in.

“Hey,” he said, moving his glasses up his nose, “I think we know each other.”

“From the movie night, right? You’re Derek? Stiles’ roommate?” The guy’s face lit up.

Derek nodded. “And you’re Scott’s friend…?”

“Isaac.”

“Hi, Isaac.”

They talked about a couple of things, Derek trying his hardest to stay nice and to smile and to not scare Isaac off unintentionally - the wolfsbane made it easier, but he felt out of character nevertheless. Once or twice he turned his head to spot Stiles, but once he spotted him actually talking to Lydia, he turned his attention back to Isaac. He needed to get his mind off things, off Stiles, to be precise.

“So, are you and Stiles a thing?” Isaac asked out of the blue. “I mean, I only ever see you two together and you seem pretty close.” He swallowed. “I mean, if that’s not a too personal thing to ask.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s okay. And we’re not a thing. We’re close friends. He’s totally hung up on Lydia.”

“Oh, I understand.”

Derek took a sip from his beer, feeling the bitter taste of wolfsbane on his tongue. It wasn’t pleasant, but feeling his head get lighter and his smiles come more naturally with every second sure as hell was.

“You do?” he asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Well…” Isaac glanced over to where Lydia was dancing with someone, “to be honest, no, I really don’t.” He smirked at Derek, cocking his brows and biting his lips.

 _Flirt mode_ , Derek’s brain supplied. He was okay with that. He wasn’t normally one for one-night-stands or even randomly making out with people he barely knew, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and desperate he was.

The music got louder and Derek moved closer to Isaac, almost instantly feeling a hand on his hip.

“I really don’t want to think about Stiles and Lydia tonight,” he shouted into Isaac’s ear over the music and Isaac nodded.

“Think I can help with that.”

It wasn’t his best idea to make out with Isaac while not being able to think about anything but Stiles, Derek knew that the second he felt Isaac’s lips on his, but he had tossed his ability to think reasonably out of the window the second he had decided to get drunk. And it wasn’t like Isaac didn’t know how kiss or anything. Because he definitely did. And if the facts that Isaac was bigger than Derek by a bit, or that his lips didn’t quite feel like he remembered Stiles’ or that Isaac’s hair was curlier and longer than Stiles’ bothered him, they didn’t enough to make him stop.

Derek felt Isaac’s fingertips underneath his shirt, making him press even closer to the other man, when Isaac’s fingers slowly brushed over his back. Their kiss was open mouthed and sloppy and Derek had his free hand in Isaac’s hair, but as great as it was, it wasn’t Stiles.

They stopped eventually to get some more drinks and Derek glanced over to Stiles, who was looking at him, drinking up a cup of God-knew-what.

“You’re not completely into this,” Isaac mumbled, downing his drink and pulling Derek close again. Derek shrugged. “It has nothing to do with you-” he started, then tilted his head a bit. “You’re not completely into it either.”

“Touché. Do you… do you want to stop?”

Derek shook his head. “And have to witness Stiles trying to get close to Lydia?”

Isaac only smirked and decided there were better things to do with their mouths than talking.

“Dude, your friend’s wasted,” Isaac told him some time afterwards. He was. Stiles was standing on the other side of the room with a bottle in his hand, staggering. Danny stood beside him, quietly talking to him, but Stiles only shook his head violently, replying angrily.

“I think I should take him home,” Derek told Isaac with an apologetic smile, but Isaac only waved his hand. “It’s okay. He’s your friend and he clearly needs someone to take care of him.”

“See you around,” Derek said and Isaac nodded.

“I’m gonna get you home,” Derek told Stiles, grabbing him by his shoulders. He ignored Stiles’ protests and steered him out of the room with a nod to Danny and Jackson. It wasn’t that late, so Derek decided it would do Stiles good to walk home instead of calling a cab.

“‘S your fault I’m drunk,” Stiles mumbled, grabbing Derek’s jacket to keep himself from falling over. “Fooling ‘round with Isaac…”

“You seemed pretty occupied yourself,” Derek said, shrugging. “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were trying to get Lydia’s attention.” Really? Stiles got drunk because he had been bored?

Stiles looked as if he wanted to say something, then shook his head and stumbled forward. They walked mostly in silence, interrupted by Stiles telling him he felt like he was going to puke, but it never happened.

“I’m feeling better, I think,” his roommate said, when they had reached their dorm building. He leaned against the wall, exhaling and watching his condensed breath.

“You really shouldn’t drink that much. You’re kind of a lightweight.”

“Well, it was kind of unavoidable, seeing that some person hurt my feelings pretty badly.”

“What happened?” He hadn’t paid attention to Stiles that much, he had only seen him talking to her and later hanging around with a sour face.

“You know, the usual. I fall in love wi' someone, this someone gives me conflictin’ signs, and I think hey, the other person could feel the same, or at leas’ be interested, but then they fuckin’ kiss someone right before my eyes. An’ I’m really sick of it. Because up to… up to this point I’m sure as hell not hidin’ my crush anymore. And I’m used to rejection, really, because it hurts less to be told that someone’s not interested than to be lead on like that.”

Derek swallowed. He hadn’t known Stiles’ crush on Lydia was this intense, hadn’t known the two of them had actually talked to each other prior to the party. And although he was still pretty sure Stiles deserved someone better than Lydia, he didn’t like to see Stiles upset either. Stiles staggered again, so Derek pulled him closer and turned him around so that he faced him.

“Maybe you’re misreading the information? Maybe they are equally interested in you and you’re more subtle about your crush than you think?”

Stiles’ lips were on his the next moment, hot, wet and needing. For a second Derek thought about giving in, but as much as he would love to, he couldn’t. Stiles was clearly drunk and from what he had just told him, this wasn’t what he wanted. So he pulled away, shaking his head.

“That’s not what you want. You’re drunk and you can’t think straight right now.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment and grimaced before taking a step back.

“Yeah, yeah that mus’ be it,” he muttered, storming up the stairs to their dorm room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... in which Stiles and Derek are being stupid puppies. 
> 
> As usual, a huge thank you to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle).  
> You can find us on tumblr: [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)


	16. Chapter 16

[](http://imgur.com/O4EtfIs)

# Chapter 16

## Stiles’ life officially sucked and he hated everything. Except Scott. He could never hate Scott.

Stiles woke up with a raging headache and the not-so-faint nausea of about five beers too many. He bit back a groan and rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around his shivering body. Why was he so cold anyway?

He blinked and found himself in his own bed. Which was... confusing. Stiles decided not to dwell on the fact that waking up alone in one's bed should not be all that confusing and tried to sort through his jumbled thoughts. Even just thinking seemed hard with a headache like that.

But the memories slowly came back to him, a little vague and in the wrong order, but he managed to piece it together after a while... and promptly wished he'd forgotten it again.

The way his bottle of beer had almost slipped from his hand when he saw Derek and Isaac making out. How he'd gulped down the remains hastily and gone to find something stronger so he wouldn't have to watch. How Derek, the asshole, was still nice enough to walk him home when he was completely wasted, how he'd - oh god - how he'd thrown himself at Derek at the slightest glimmer of hope Derek might like him back, how he'd stormed off and later refused to sleep in Derek's bed even though the jerk had looked at him with those damn puppy eyes of his that Stiles could almost never resist...

Stiles decided the day wasn't worth it and buried himself back in the blankets, dozing off restlessly.

When he resurfaced once more, his head was no clearer and he was still nauseous, but he mustered up enough strength to drag himself to the bathroom (pointedly NOT looking at Derek's empty bed) and got rid of the leftover alcohol in his stomach. Then he called Scott and ranted to him for about twenty minutes, not even caring that he sounded like a lovesick teenage girl, until Scott cut him off and told him to come over and bring hangover food for the both of them so they could spend the rest of the day lying on Scott's couch and playing _Call of Duty_.

They were halfway through their cheeseburgers when Stiles felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He ignored it only for it to do it again after ten seconds.

He sighed and put his burger down, wiping his hands on a napkin and reached into his pocket. There were two texts from Derek.

Derek: **Where are you? Are you okay?**

Derek: **I have something I need to talk to you about.**

Stiles rolled his eyes even though Derek hadn't really done anything wrong there and immediately winced when the motion sent a jolt of pain through his head.

Stiles: _i'll be home in the evening_

He threw his phone to the side and went back to his cheeseburger. And failed spectacularly at not thinking about Derek.

***

Stiles stayed at Scott's until half past six, when he was sexiled - _sexiled?!_ \- by him. Seriously, sometimes Stiles wished he was a girl with girls as best friends. Girls didn't sexile each other in times of heartbreak, did they? He was still lost in thought when he unlocked the door to his and Derek's room and then remembered he was supposed to be nervous about seeing him. Which he promptly wished he hadn't remembered because his heart started hammering faster immediately and Derek, the asshole, could probably hear it with his super hearing or whatever.

"Hey," he murmured into Derek's general direction and dropped on his bed, getting his laptop out.

"Hello, Stiles," Derek said softly and Stiles, not for the first time, cursed his roommate's stupidly adorable voice.

Stiles didn't reply, resolutely staring at his computer screen. If Derek had something to say he had to say it. He wouldn't do him the favor of asking.

"So," Derek started after about thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence. "They assigned me a single room. I'm moving out next Wednesday."

Stiles looked up abruptly, forgetting his resolution not to look at Derek, like, ever again. He blinked and then cleared his throat. "That's... that's good? That's what you wanted, right?"

Derek licked his lips and, oh _god_ , did he _really_ have to do that?!

"Yeah... yeah it is."

Stiles pressed his lips together and swallowed. "Great."

"Yeah." Derek was still looking at him, a weird expression on his face so Stiles looked away, gluing his eyes to his laptop's screen.

***

Stiles managed to not talk to Derek properly for another twenty-four hours. Stiles had had to leave the library where he had been studying because of some annoying kid who wouldn't turn his headphones down, even though multiple people had asked him to and all the other seats were taken. So he'd reluctantly returned to the dorm and had put on his own headphones and gone back to studying. Derek hadn't moved from his usual reading position on the bed when Stiles had come in, so Stiles had thankfully not had to talk to him beyond their usual hi.

Stiles had just gotten back into his subject matter and was trying to solve a complicated formula when a pillow hit him on the head and he scrambled backwards, blinking at Derek disbelievingly.

The werewolf was still in the same position as before, staring intently at the pages of his copy of _Cloud Atlas_ , but Stiles wasn't fooled for a second.

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed the pillow, throwing it back as hard as he could. He gave a triumphant yelp when he almost knocked Derek's book out if his hands. Derek glared at him, but Stiles saw right through it. Most of all, he just looked relieved.

Stiles barely had time to finish the thought when the pillow came flying back and knocked right into his chest. Stiles let himself fall backwards, willing himself not to giggle, and tossed the pillow away without even looking where it went. He heard Derek make a disgruntled sound and looked up, only to sprawl back on his mattress and laugh out loud. His throw had apparently knocked Derek's glasses askew and they were hanging off one of his ears.

The pillow came back seconds later to hit him right in the stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Stiles waited until he had his breath back under control and then sat up. "I'm still mad at you," he said quietly, trying to put on a serious face but probably failing.

Derek gave him a look and sighed. "I wish I knew why."

Stiles' eyes narrowed and they didn't say anything for a few seconds before Stiles broke eye-contact. "Nevermind. I was being... stupid."

Derek's eyebrows did the thing they always did when he knew Stiles was lying but thankfully, he didn't say anything.

"Sooo..." Stiles started. "Wednesday, huh?"

Derek nodded.

"Where's that new room?"

"About ten minutes from here."

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. "You... I mean, I know you always wanted a single room and everything, so you like solitude and stuff but... I can come visit, right? Occasionally?"

Derek huffed a laugh and looked down at his fingers. "Of course, Stiles." His voice was quiet, almost shy when he said it.

Stiles exhaled, relieved. "Good, great, awesome. You can too, you know. Visit, I mean. Anytime."

Derek nodded. "Thank you."

Stiles grinned. "Glad we cleared that up. Now, come here, we're watching one of those werewolf movies you got me."

Derek just stared at him, looking slightly terrified.

Stiles patted the spot next to him and reached for the box of movies on his desk. "I'm serious. Also, you'll have to point out all the misinformation to me. Seriously. I'm going to take everything you don't speak against at face value."

Derek snorted and finally got up to walk over and flop down next to Stiles. "If I must."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I know you secretly love it."

They ended up watching _An American Werewolf in Paris_ and Stiles fell asleep on Derek's shoulder forty-five minutes into it.

When he woke up, his laptop was shut down on his desk, and he was tucked into his blankets with Derek right beside him, asleep. Stiles smiled to himself and pulled his arm tighter around his waist before going back to sleep himself.

***

The next few days went by in a rush and then it was suddenly Tuesday morning. Stiles had effectively ignored the fact that he was going to live alone for the rest of the semester, but now when Derek climbed out of his bed, hair tousled from sleep and rubbing his eyes, it suddenly hit him like a brick wall. He swallowed and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“We should do something tonight,” he blurted.

Derek turned back to him and frowned. “Do something?”

“Well, you know,” Stiles said, making a vague hand gesture. “It’s your last night here. We could have some people over.” Derek’s expression darkened and Stiles hurried to add: “Or, you know, not? We can also just stay up all night, watch bad werewolf movies, and eat junk food?” he asked hopefully.

Derek snorted. “What for?” he asked quietly and Stiles’ smile faded when he met Derek’s dark gaze. He shrugged. “I don’t know, Derek. It’s just that it’s our last night and we-”

“No,” Derek growled and yanked the shirt he’d picked up from the chair next to Stiles’ bed over his head.

Stiles watched him with furrowed brows. “Why not, I just want-”

“I said no, Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Fine. Be like that. I know you have feelings, even if you pretend you don’t.”  
Derek just growled.

“Oh come on, your wolfy shit doesn’t scare me Derek.” Stiles muttered and he could feel all the fight leave him and his shoulders slumped. “I’m hitting the shower. We can talk after, when you’ve calmed down enough to _use your words_.”

He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him and muttered some curses under his breath, fully aware Derek could hear every word.

When Stiles came back out, freshly showered, the room was empty and Stiles briefly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

_Still angry for freaking out on me. Not cool dude._

He sent the text, thinking of sending more, just to see just how annoying he had to be in order for Derek to react but then decided to leave it. Let the wheels turn in his head a little.

He sat through his classes without really paying attention to anything, still brooding over Derek by the time he got out.

When he went back into his dorm room, Derek’s things were gone. Stiles glanced at his phone, cursing loudly when there was still no text from his now ex-roommate. What the fuck had he done wrong? Why had Derek suddenly been so sulky and growly and… He shook his head and sunk down on the bed. Without Derek here, the room felt cold and for a short moment he asked himself how the hell he would be able to sleep this night.

He grabbed his pillow and blanket and placed them on Derek’s bed. He had forgotten to take his _Nighthawks_ poster with him, Stiles realized and as much as he wanted to rip it off the wall and scream at it and maybe cry a bit afterwards, he left it untouched. Maybe Derek would come back for it.

He spent the night tossing and turning and gave up on trying to fall asleep altogether when it neared 4 am, instead grabbing his headphones and listening to the soundtracks of all the movies Derek and he had watched lately. Yeah, right. Because this would make him feel any better.

***

“You need to talk to him,” Allison told him two days after Derek had moved out. “You look like a wreck. Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Hardly. And no to talking to him. I haven’t done anything wrong. If he thinks moving out of our room and not talking to me solves anything, it’s his problem!”

“Sure. Tell me when you’re ready to grow up,” Allison said and rolled her eyes. “You and Derek, you’re the worst.” She was gone before he could reply to her.

He spent his days taking over shifts at Starbucks, playing _Call of Duty_ with Scott and ignoring his feelings as best as he could, almost breaking down from exhaustion in the evenings until Danny, of all people, told him to go the fuck home and to not come back before he’d gotten his shit together.

He sent Scott a quick text when he got out of work.

Stiles: _scotty, can I crash at your place today?_

There was no immediate reply, so he decided to just go over. He sent him another text, telling him he was coming and jogged across campus, shivering from the cold.

Matt, Scott’s slightly creepy roommate opened the door when he knocked, giving him a confused look. “Hey, Stiles?”

“Hey man. Scott home?”

Matt shook his head. “Nah, I thought he’s with either you or Allison. Haven’t seen him since earlier today. Have you tried Allison?”

Stiles nodded. “Not yet, but I will. Thanks, man.”

“Sure thing.”

Stiles waved and turned to walk out of the building again, dialing Allison’s number.

“Hey... Stiles?”

“Hi Allison! Why’s everyone surprised to hear from me today?”

“Because you only ever call me when Scott won’t answer his phone while he’s here and he’s not right now, so…?”

“Hey, that’s not true! Well, okay maybe it is. But.. He’s not with you?”

“No,” Allison said. “But it’s Tuesday remember? Practice?”

Stiles groaned. “Right. Right. Sorry, I’m a terrible friend. Thank you so much, Allison.”

“You’re welcome, Stiles,” she said with an amusement in her voice.

“Take care.”

“You too.”

So Stiles took another detour to the lacrosse field and told himself the lengths he was going in order to not see Derek were not at all pathetic and disproportional.

When he got there, the field was deserted and the team was nowhere to be seen.

Stiles went around the bleachers to the locker room doors and cracked them open, sticking his head inside. “Hello?”

“Scott?”

There was another beat of silence, but then Stiles heard a low, strangled noise from behind one of the lockers.

Stiles pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, his heart suddenly pounding heavily.

“Scott, are you there?”

There it was again, the sound, louder this time.

Stiles felt the blood drain from his face and rushed towards the noise. He skidded to a halt when he’d rounded the lockers and his eyes widened at what he saw.

He stood there, paralyzed, for a few seconds before he could reach for his phone and dial 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

Stiles rushed through the formalities, sinking down next to Scott and applied pressure to the wounds where the voice in his ear told him to until the paramedics were there. He answered their questions like in trance and when he insisted on coming with them in the ambulance they didn’t object.

When Scott went into surgery, Stiles still felt as if he was in trance. He nodded when one of the hospital staff told him to sit in the waiting room, feeling sick when he finally sat down. After some time, he remembered to call Allison, telling her what had happened, tears streaming from his face.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he was dialing Derek’s number. He needed him here. If there was one person who could keep him from freaking out, it was him.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, there's a cliffhanger.
> 
> Huge thanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/Users/Lily_Thistle).  
> Say hi on tumblr: [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you on Friday!


	17. Chapter 17

 [](http://imgur.com/sOCwydF)

# Chapter 17

## kiss /kɪs/: noun - a touch or caress with the lips

 

“Did you talk to him?” Erica asked when she opened the door to her room. Derek only shook his head and shrugged, turning to face the wall. He didn’t move when Erica sat down next to him, not even when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Boyd would be really concerned by the sheer amount of time you spend in my bed, you know… well, if it wasn’t _you_.”

“What do you mean?” Derek grumbled, staring at the wall.

“Well, I’d say the chances you make a move on me aren’t exactly high, don’t you think?”

Derek shrugged. She was right, though, he did spend a lot of time curled up on Erica’s bed, staring holes into the wall, and she had been surprisingly tactful about it so far. He just… couldn’t go back to his room, his _single_ room, without the constant presence of Stiles there. It was kind of funny - having a room for his own had been something he had always wanted, but now that he had one, he dreaded it. The silence was too loud in his head, without Stiles chattering next to him, or typing along on his laptop, he felt on edge. The nights were the worst, though, which was why in the middle of his second sleepless night, he had decided to pack his backpack and stay at Erica’s. She hadn’t asked why he was here, had just told him she wouldn’t go more than a week without having sex with Boyd, so he should get his shit together soon, but she had curled against him nevertheless, hugged him until he went to sleep. Although he had been able to sleep for a few nights now, it wasn’t the same. The comfort of waking up with Stiles in his arms or with his nose buried in his hair was something he missed above all.

“You could just talk to him,” Erica would point out every once in a while, but Derek was pretty sure he couldn’t. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Because there wasn’t. They had slept in the same bed. Had kissed once and Stiles had tried to kiss him, not that any of that meant anything - Stiles was still in love with Lydia, something Derek would never understand, but had to accept.

“Other than the fact that you’re heartbroken and he probably thinks you’re an asshole because you just can’t open your mouth and talk like everyone else? You just left and I had to talk to the Argent girl yesterday, who told me your lover boy is devastated.”

“He said so?”

“No, he doesn’t want to talk about you and works his ass off at Starbucks. So, please, talk to him.”

“He’s just pissed I left without saying goodbye. And he could talk to me, you know? He hasn’t called or texted.”

“Neither have you.”

Derek thought it was wise not to talk back. Instead, he just glared at his phone, considering texting Stiles for a short moment, but instead he just shook his head. It probably was better this way. As much as he missed Stiles, being around him and knowing the feelings he had for him were one-sided only was something he couldn’t bear for much longer.

“I want you out by tomorrow,” Erica said, “I need some alone time and you need to man up.”

Derek closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

 

***

 

Stiles did call eventually. It was late evening, Derek had been sexiled from Erica’s room and now sat instead on his own bed in his strangely empty room, recovering from an awkward conversation with Allison, who had told him to get his shit together. Even Scott had tried to talk to him earlier today, but aside from awkwardly putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him Stiles wouldn’t leave him alone and he couldn’t take playing _Call of Duty_ all day long for much longer, nothing had come out of this conversation. So now there he was, holding his ringing phone in his hand and deciding what to do with it. His finger hovered over the screen, ready to swipe across it to pick up, but in the end he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed one of his books from his night stand, an introduction to contemporary native North American literature, and ignored Stiles. He just needed to get over him. That was all.

 

Stiles didn’t stop after one call. Instead, he insistently kept calling, apparently ignoring it was already near midnight, so Derek just turned his phone silent and tried to sleep. When sleep came eventually, it brought weird dreams and Derek found himself pinned against a wall by Stiles, who kissed him. “I’m in love with you,” Derek told him, and Stiles only smiled. “You’re almost as good a kisser as Lydia ,” he told him and turned around to the redhead, taking her hand and leaving. When he woke up he was cold and shivering and felt out of place and more alone than ever.

 

He had 12 missed calls and three unread messages when he looked at his phone again and even though Stiles could be insistent, this was a whole new level.

 

Stiles: _Derek, I need to talk to you. Scott was attacked, I think it was a werewolf. He’s in surgery_

Stiles: _They said he’s in critical condition_

Stiles: _Okay, I know you’re pissed or whatever and you don’t want to talk to me, but could you for one moment forget about whatever reason it is you keep ignoring me for and just be there for me because Scott is still in surgery and i’m freaking out here… I need you_

 

“Fuck,” Derek muttered under his breath and pressed the call button.

“Derek?” Stiles sounded tired, Derek found and, fuck, he had missed his voice.

“What happened?” he asked, getting up and fiddling with the zipper of his backpack to pull out some clothes.

“I found him in the locker room. There… there was blood everywhere and… it looked like some… thing tried to tear out pieces of him.” Stiles swallowed. “He’s okay.”

“Do you still want me to come?”

The silence between his question and Stiles’ answer was all it took to make his heart clench in his chest.

“Yeah,” Stiles finally said. “Yeah, I still do.”

 

***

 

Stiles looked small and exhausted, sunken into his chair, his hair ruffled as he was chewing his fingernail.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, flopping down next to him.

“You’re here.” Stiles smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

“I’ve been an ass the last couple days I think,” Derek said with a shrug because he wasn’t exactly sure. Did ignoring another person because of an awful unrequited crush qualify for being an asshole? He had never been in a situation like this before, his people skills were nonexistent.

“I guess,” Stiles said, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder. “And I’m still pissed. But you see, in a situation like this I would call Scott first, but…” he shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here. Even though you’ve kinda been an ass.”

“Hi, Derek.” Allison slipped into the chair next to Stiles and handed him a coffee. She looked equally tired and shaken, holding her own cup with both of her hands.

Derek nodded and the three of them fell into a silence - Derek couldn’t say if it was a comfortable or uncomfortable one; Stiles’ head on his shoulder and the warmth of his body next to him occupied his mind.

 

***

 

Scott woke up a few hours later and they were allowed in his room around three in the afternoon. Stiles got a call from Scott’s mother, who told him she would be there in an hour or so and sounded relieved when Stiles told her Scott was already awake.

When they entered Scott’s room, the smell coming from Scott almost made Derek wolf out. Instead he balled his hands into fists, feeling his claws dig into the inside of his palms, and got closer. This couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible. Scott grinned weakly at them and his grin got a bit broader when Allison bent down to him to kiss his forehead.

“Do you remember anything?” Stiles blurted out after Scott had reassured them that he was feeling fine.

“It… happened too fast. I’m not sure; at first I thought it was some guy attacking me, but it was dark and… I’m not sure a human could do something like this.”

Allison turned around to both of them for a second, frowning, before she turned her attention back to Scott. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she murmured, holding his hand. She ruffled his hair and there it was again, the scent that made Derek take a step back. It was the same he had noticed when Braeden was killed, but this time he couldn’t deny it, even if it didn’t make any sense. It was impossible.

They stayed for a bit longer until one of the nurses told them Scott needed to rest again.

“Is it okay if Allison stays?” Scott asked quietly. “I can rest much better with her here.” He let his head sink back into the pillows and closed his eyes, not letting go of Allison’s hand until the nurse just ushered Derek and Stiles out with a roll of her eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” Derek urged as soon as they were out.

“Now? Can’t we just pretend everything’s okay between us for a bit longer?”

Derek shook his head. “It’s not about us, Stiles, it’s about Scott. Come on.” They went outside where they would be left alone, since it was raining heavily. Stiles shivered after a couple of moments despite the glass roof that kept them dry.

“I know who bit Scott and him being here should be impossible and I’m not sure what his motive is, but I think it somehow involves me.”

“Who?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“My uncle. Peter. But… he’s been in a coma for _years_. He should be in a coma right _now_ ; no one informed us he has woken up. But I thought I scented him when Braeden was killed and his scent is all over Scott, I’m sure it’s him.”

“Wait, you tracked his scent back when Braeden was killed?” Stiles frowned.

Derek shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, it was too faint and I called Laura and asked about Peter, but she told me nothing had changed.”

“What now?”

“I’m going to track him down. I’m going to find him and talk to him and… I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure this is what he wants.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment.

“Why couldn’t he just… call? Write an e-mail?”

“It’s Peter. He wasn’t exactly stable before… before our family was killed. Even less so now, I suppose. And what he’s doing right now is circling me. He’s sending me a message, and he wants me to cooperate. The longer I wait, the more people die or something similarly dreadful.”

“But why Braeden and Scott? What do they have to do with you?”

Derek shrugged. “Maybe they had my scent on them. I studied with Braeden shortly before… before it happened and I talked to Scott yesterday.”

“This means,” Stiles started slowly, hesitating.

“This means you have to take care until I’ve handled this. He hurts people to get my attention, people who have my scent on them and you smell like me, still do. You have to promise me to take care of yourself, Stiles. Please, promise me you don’t leave the building alone and stay inside when it’s dark until I’ve dealt with him. I couldn’t live with you being hurt.”

Stiles took a step back, shaking his head. “No, you listen. You can’t do that, acting all pissed and like an asshole and packing your stuff when I’m not in our room and not calling or anything for almost a week and now telling me you couldn’t live with me being hurt? Because I am hurt, Derek, I’m hurt and fucking pissed and I want to turn back time because last year everything was okay and… and since this stupid party you’re avoiding me. I’m sorry for what happened, I’m sorry I overreacted when I saw you kissing Isaac and I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, but I’m not taking back what I said. I have feelings for you and I’m trying to ignore them so we can stay friends because… I really want to stay friends with you. But from how you’ve been acting lately I think it’s not the same for you and-”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his heart pounding loudly.

“What. I wasn’t finished.”

“You… after the party. You weren’t talking about _Lydia_ rejecting you, right?”

“Lydia never rejected me… I got over my crush on her months ago. Why- what?”

“I’m an idiot,” Derek mumbled and whatever reply Stiles had got muffled when Derek pulled him close by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him. Stiles stiffened for a second in Derek's grip and he felt dread rush through his veins, but then Stiles put his arms around Derek’s neck, digging his fingers into Derek’s hair, kissing him back like his life depended on it. Derek could barely suppress a whine when Stiles' lips opened for him and he could _finally_ taste him again, after thinking for so long this was something he would never have. It was fortunate there was no one around or someone would probably have had some objections to so much PDA but Derek couldn't bring himself to care.

They had to break apart to breathe eventually and rested their foreheads together, breathing heavily. "Wow," was all Stiles could whisper, and Derek would never admit how thrilled he was to have rendered him speechless. He leaned forward to kiss him again, softer, more gentle this time, and he felt Stiles shiver under his hands, heard his heartbeat stutter, and knew this was as right as it could get.

“You thought I was talking about Lydia? You actually thought that?” Stiles asked him when he'd regained his speech abilities, with an amused grin on his lips. His cheeks were still flushed and his heart was beating too fast but his eyes were shining and his fingers were playing with Derek’s hair and he couldn't help but smile back.

“You talk about her a lot,” he said quietly, blushing a bit himself because he now realized just how wrong about him he had been all this time.

“Because she’s gorgeous and funny and I adore her,” Stiles said, shrugging, “but she’s scary as hell and she has an only slightly less scary boyfriend.”

“That’s all?” Derek asked.

“And she isn’t you. First of all, she is not _nearly_ grumpy enough. Or broody, for that matter. I guess she’s sort of mysterious, but you’ve still got the whole supernatural creature thing going for you. And her looks, I mean; she’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. But she just can’t beat those abs-"

“Shut up,” Derek growled and Stiles laughed. The sound struck a chord deep in Derek's chest and it was like nothing had ever felt as pure, as _right_ as having Stiles right there in his arms. He leaned forward once more, smiling at how Stiles' heart stuttered in anticipation of the kiss, and as he brushed his lips over Stiles' again, he decided that it was most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY RIGHT??
> 
> Huge thanks to [Astrid ](archiveofourown.org/users/lily_thistle) and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) as always.
> 
> But also thank YOU, your comments are amazing and they make us so so so happy seriously. You guys are the best.


	18. Chapter 18

[ ](http://imgur.com/sNL9Ugo)

 

# Chapter 18

##  _How_ was this Stiles' life?? This was much too good to be even remotely true, but Stiles did not care in the slightest.

 

Stiles let Derek pull him towards the entrance of the unfamiliar dorm building and desperately tried to keep his heartbeat under control, but it was no use. Since the kiss he’d barely been able to keep his breathing under control, much less his pulse.

He squeezed Derek’s hand lightly as they entered the building and Stiles looked around curiously as he followed Derek up the stairs.

“Well, this is anticlimactic,” he remarked, poking Derek in the side.

“What did you expect?” Derek said, smiling back at him.

“I don’t know. More luxury, I guess.”

Derek snorted and they stopped in front of one of the doors, so Derek could unlock it.

Stiles stepped over the threshold and raised his eyebrows. The room looked almost exactly like Derek’s part of their shared room had looked like. It was a bit smaller than theirs, and the only thing missing was Derek’s _Nighthawks_ poster he had forgotten in his old room.

Stiles turned around and opened his mouth to say something but before he could make a sound, Derek had covered his mouth with his own, pulling him closer. Stiles smiled and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck before pulling away.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Derek replied, still smiling.

“Okay wow, this is the sappiest moment of my life.”

Derek choked on his laughter and rested his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder. “How romantic, Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. “Wow. Derek Hale wants romance. I’m impressed.”

Derek nuzzled along his jawline. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Really, Stiles? Of all the possible comebacks this is what you choose?”

“Cut me some slack, Der. You might be really nonchalant about this, but I’m actually still sort of, uhm, _incredibly_ surprised you’d even look at me twice so-”

Derek finally did kiss him to shut him up, while simultaneously steering him towards the bed.

“Oh. Yes. Good idea. Amazing idea actually,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s mouth.

Derek pulled away slightly as he pushed Stiles down onto the bed and frowned at him. “You won’t even stop talking while I kiss you.”

“I love how you just phrased that as a statement and not even a complaint.”

They were both lying on the bed by now and Derek chuckled into Stiles’ neck and Stiles wiggled under him to reach for his phone.

“I’ll just ask Allison for an update about Scott.”

Derek nodded and rolled off Stiles onto his side.

“He’s going to be okay, you know?” Derek said, watching Stiles’ fingers fly over the screen.

Stiles took a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just… I’ve had to take him to the hospital more times than I can count because of his asthma he had when he was a kid and… I can’t lose him. I just can’t.”

Stiles sent the text and then put the phone on Derek’s nightstand, freezing when he noticed something.

“Are… are those new?” he asked, pointing at the framed pictures and felt Derek nod besides him.

“Laura gave them to me for Christmas.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Really? Wow. Can I… can I look?”

A shrug. “Sure."

Stiles reached for one of the frames and let his eyes trail over the faces.

“Who’s this? He seems familiar.” Stiles tried to remember if he’d ever seen the man on other pictures of Derek’s before but he came up empty-handed. Derek hadn’t put up pictures before this one at all.

“That’s… Peter actually,” Derek said after a beat, tensing next to Stiles.

“Pe- _oh_.” Something clicked in Stiles’ mind and his eyes widened. “Oh fuck. I’ve met him.”

“What?” Derek asked, alarmed, automatically pulling Stiles closer to him by the waist.

“Relax, that was months ago,” Stiles said thoughtfully. “He came into the coffee shop asking for directions. Creepy as fuck, too. Figures,” he said darkly.

A low growl rumbled through Derek’s chest and Stiles automatically put a hand over his heart to calm him, only briefly stopping to wonder how the gesture seemed so natural.

“Calm down, wolf-boy. He didn’t even touch me.”

Derek didn’t relax but he did stop growling.

“There we go,” Stiles murmured, blushing. “Glad to know you’re so protective of me.”

“Of course I am protective of you, Stiles.”

The younger man rolled his eyes and quickly kissed Derek’s collarbone. “Right. Back to this though,” he said, gesturing to the photograph. He briefly contemplated asking about the people in the picture he didn’t know, but then chose not to. No sense in upsetting Derek any more. “Do you think you can find him?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. He wants my attention, so he won’t make it hard for me to track him. I couldn’t do it if he didn’t want to be found, but…” Derek swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. “He didn’t choose his victims randomly. He wants to be found and he wants to be found by me.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He looked back at the photograph and spotted Laura. A younger, happier Laura than he could remember. “We should call Laura. She can help-”

“No,” Derek said firmly, tensing up all over again.

Stiles frowned. “What? Why? Her uncle’s running around trying - and succeeding, I might add - to kill people, Derek. I think she has a right to know. It’s bad enough we can’t involve the police in this.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m not going to involve her unless we have to. She’s been through enough. I can handle it.” Stiles gave him a skeptical look and the other man sighed. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

Stiles hesitated, but then nodded.

“Good,” Derek murmured and leaned down to press a light kiss on Stiles’ mouth. “I’ll make sure no one else dies. I promise.”

Stiles nodded again and wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist to pull him on top of him. “Less talking, more kissing,” he suggested with a grin.

Derek chuckled and buried his face in Stiles neck, trailing light kisses from his collarbone up to his jaw line.

Stiles whimpered and dragged Derek up by the hair so he could kiss him properly. He had never really seen the appeal of making out before. Sure it was fun, and made him feel all nice and warm in all the right places, but there was only so long you could lick each other's mouths without taking things any further before it became incredibly boring.

Or so he had thought.

Because kissing Derek just didn’t get boring. He wasn’t exactly bothering to keep track of the time, but judging from the way his jaw hurt and his cheeks and neck burned from Derek’s stubble they must have been at it for a while. He didn’t even feel a particular need to take things any further. Sure, his body did, and so did Derek’s, but it wasn’t like they were in a hurry. It was gentle and nice and slow and Stiles was a little glad Derek seemed just as content with staying on first base as he was, without them having to discuss it.

“Stay,” Derek murmured into his neck at some point. “Please.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and he nodded, grinning. “Yeah, of course. If you.... if you want me to.”

Derek nodded and pulled away so he could look Stiles in the eye. They were both lying on their sides, facing each other and Derek tangled his fingers into Stiles’ hair. “I do.”

Stiles grinned. “Awesome. Because I’ve been sleeping like crap without you there.”

He immediately snapped his mouth shut and his eyes widened when he realized what he’d just confessed, but Derek replied before he could try to talk his way out of the slip. “Me too.”

Stiles let out a relieved laugh. “Right. Okay. We’re going to need to get food first though because I’m starving.”

Derek chuckled. “Of course you are.”

 

***

 

They called ahead to a Japanese place right off Harvard Square and then went out to pick up the food. They didn’t talk much, but they did walk there, hand in hand. and Stiles couldn’t even bring himself to protest when Derek paid for their whole order.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on Derek’s bed, boxes of takeout in front of them and another werewolf movie running on Derek’s laptop. All in all, it wasn’t very different from their usual movie nights, except now it was apparently a completely acceptable thing for Derek to lean over and lick sauce from the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

At some point during the last half hour of the movie Stiles began to feel exhaustion crash over him like a tidal wave. It was a miracle he’d been able to stay awake and functioning for this long, he thought, as the male protagonist of the movie and the girl next door he’d been in love with for a decade finally had their epic, musically underlined first kiss.

He felt himself drift off after that and woke up briefly when Derek gently moved him to the side so he could pick up their empty takeout boxes. Stiles chose to use that moment to get rid of his jeans and socks and crawl under Derek’s covers.

A few seconds later, Derek joined him, wrapping his arm around Stiles waist and pulling him against his chest. “Good night, Stiles,” he murmured into Stiles hair.

“‘night, Der,” Stiles managed before falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)  
> We hope you liked this chapter, after all the pining you definitely deserved some cute Sterek moments ;)
> 
> As always, huge thanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.com/users/Lily_Thistle) :) We owe you so much, guys!
> 
> Also, follow us on tumblr! Or maybe just say hi to us? [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)| [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you on Friday!


	19. Chapter 19

 

 [](http://imgur.com/uMkpEt7)

 

# Chapter 19

## Reunion /riːˈjuːniən/: noun - an instance of people coming together again after a period of separation

 

Derek didn’t sleep. Instead, he had his arms around Stiles, holding him closely and breathing in his scent, his nose nuzzling against his neck. He felt Stiles’ heartbeat under his fingers and with his warm body pressed against him, he should be able to find sleep easily, but… he didn’t. He needed to get out and find Peter, before more people got hurt. When he slipped out of bed quietly only seconds later, carefully tucking Stiles in so he wouldn’t get cold and pressing a kiss on his forehead, he felt he should feel happier about what had happened. Maybe when all of this was over. Maybe when he knew Stiles was safe.

When he got outside, the moon hung low in the sky, shining its pale light at him. He jogged through the snow for a couple of minutes until he reached a part of campus that wasn’t that full of other people’s smells and closed his eyes to concentrate on that particular smell that was his uncle - leather, wood, _pack_. Now that he knew he hadn’t only imagined Peter’s scent on Braeden, he could smell him everywhere - near the dorms, on the barks of some trees, on the park bench. He walked with his eyes mostly closed until Peter’s scent got stronger, fresher.

“Peter?” he called hesitantly. Peter’s scent was strong, so strong as if he had stood right there just a moment ago, but he couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t make out which direction he had gone off. He waited, looking around him, but whatever he had hoped for - Peter appearing in front of him, Peter coming at him from behind - nothing happened. If his uncle heard him, if he was there, he didn’t react.

“Come on, you obviously want to talk to me, so talk!” he shouted after listening for humans approaching, but he was alone.

“You disappoint me, nephew,” he heard suddenly and there, in front of him, a human shape crept out of the shadows. Peter slowly came closer, his head tilted a bit, smiling broadly. “Good evening, Derek. There I was thinking you would be able to find me on your own, but I was mistaken, so it seems.”

Derek’s claws popped out when Peter came to a halt only a few feet away from him and he felt the points of his teeth against the inside of his lips. Peter grinned, stretching out his arms, putting his hands onto Derek’s shoulders, and pulling him closer.

“It’s been a long time, Derek. Look at you, all grown-up.”

“What do you want?” Derek growled, taking a step back.

“What do I want, what do I want - I’ve come all the way to Massachusetts and this is what you ask? No ‘Hello Uncle Peter, how come you’ve woken up from a coma after six years and escaped the hospital without anyone noticing?’ Because I can tell you, it involved a lot of bribing and terrifying poor nurses. Don’t I even get a ‘How are you?’”

Peter’s eyes were wide and Derek could almost smell the crazy on him. He completely lost it, he thought, as he was trying to shove his uncle’s hands off his shoulders, but Peter’s grip was like iron.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it,” Derek mumbled through clenched teeth. “You killed Braeden and almost killed Scott. Why?”

“Because some dumb kid came into the locker room before I could finish,” Peter whispered tonelessly. For a moment, Derek was almost sure he could see something like realization in Peter’s eyes, regret almost, but it was gone before he could blink, instead replaced by a huge, fake smile as Peter crept closer.

“So… you want to know why, I’m going to tell you why,” he said, his voice low. “Do you know what it feels like to be in a coma? First, it’s darkness, then, after a while, the nightmares start. Or the memories? It doesn’t matter, you see, it doesn’t matter if I dreamt it or I remembered them burning in front of my eyes, my kids, my wife, my sister. I wanted the dreams to stop, you know? I wanted to stop thinking, to stop remembering, I wished nothing more than to _die_. But I didn’t. And the dreams continued, they kept dying over and over again in my head, I heard them scream every minute of every day and I didn’t _understand_!”

Peter’s face was close now, his hand gripping his shoulder again with a force that would have shattered a human’s bones. Peter breathed in deeply a couple of times and blinked, his face a grimace of anger and desperation when he wiped his other hand over his eyes.

“I didn’t understand why they had to die. I didn’t understand how it had been _possible_ for them to die.” Peter swallowed. For a moment he seemed almost fragile and Derek nearly forgot this was the man who had ripped out the intestines from Braeden’s stomach.

“Sometimes I would hear people talking to me, mostly the nurses, or Laura, since everyone else in this goddamn family was killed. And then, one day, it was someone else. One day it was _you_ who talked to me. It must have been years, right? It seems like such a long time ago, and I don’t remember everything, but I remember what matters most. I remember you telling me it was _your_ fault.”

Derek felt the sharp points of Peter’s claws on his neck before he could move. He forced himself to breathe, but his breath came out shaky.

“I remember you telling me that your ex-girlfriend, Kate, was an Argent. Was that why you never told us her full name? You told me you had loved her, that she had claimed to love you back and that one day you had given her a spare key to our house.” Peter swallowed. “I wanted you to stop talking. I tried to wake up, to open my eyes, but my body wasn’t ready, so all I could do was lie there and listen to you telling me my wife Caroline had died and…” He paused, loosening the grip on Derek’s neck, but Derek felt as if he was paralyzed. “My daughters. You told me my daughters were dead. Natalie was eight and Anna… she was only _four._ ” He shook his head and looked at Derek with a stern expression.

“You gave a werewolf hunter a spare key to a house full of werewolves. And when she asked when we would be home, you just told her, so she could carefully execute her plan of killing us all. I remember you crying, saying it was all your fault and… I have to admit, Derek. I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Derek took a step back, but instantly felt claws digging into his neck and from the way his uncle effortlessly pulled him back, he knew he was stronger than him.

Something changed in Peter’s eyes. The sadness was gone; instead, it was replaced with anger. His uncle’s jaw tensed as he creeped even closer to him, tilting his head. “So _you’re_ asking me why, Derek? You’re asking me why I started killing your little friends? Why I ripped this pretty girl’s insides out? Why I almost crushed that lacrosse player’s throat?”

Peter’s breath was hot against Derek’s ear when his uncle bent forward, his lips almost touching his cheek.

“I came here for revenge. But it somehow seems that what I have done so far wasn’t enough. Who do you think I should take next? The curly-haired guy from that party? The blond girl you’ve been hanging out with? Or… the roommate? Oh, wait, you’re not roommates anymore. That doesn’t keep you from meeting, though, right? His scent is all over you. Now, how would you feel when I hunt him down? When I slowly tear him apart limb from limb? Would you cry? Would your heart shatter? Would you come after me? Kill me?”

Peter took a step back, spreading out his arms, his claws full of Derek’s blood.

“So hunt me then. Make it your life’s mission to find me and kill me. After I’m finished with you, I’ll probably deserve it. But I’ll tell you what. I won’t stop. The girl didn’t matter to you and you wouldn’t consider the lacrosse player a friend, I know. I only wanted to send you a message, and I’m pretty sure it worked.”

“Don’t. Do whatever you have to do, just don’t hurt him,” Derek growled, his claws popping out.

“You see, hurting him is the one thing I _have_ to do. Just like you let Kate Argent hurt my family.”

“I was sixteen, Peter,” Derek said through clenched teeth. “I… I didn’t know better.”

“Interesting,” Peter mumbled, “Did you hear that? That little hitch in your heartbeat when you just said that? Something tells me you yourself don’t even believe in what you’ve just said. And if you can’t fool yourself, you sure as hell can’t fool me.”

Peter tilted his head, his grin broadening, a manic glint in his eyes.

“Did you know what her plan was? What did she tell you? That werewolves are monsters and need to be killed? Oh, but you, you’re better than the others, Derek, you’re not a monster, did she tell you that? Tell you she would spare you? Did she ask you which one of your family members you wanted to save? Or was is pure chance Laura decided to not skip first period that day?”

“She didn’t tell me,” Derek mumbled when he felt Peter’s claws digging into the side of his neck again. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

“What was her excuse then? Why did you tell her when we would be home?”

Derek shivered, the blood trickling down his neck and onto his sweatshirt making him slightly sick. He tried to shove Peter’s hand away, but he was stronger, didn’t even feel affected by Derek’s attempt.

“She… she said she had a surprise for me. That she would sneak in when no one was home and wait for me in my room.”

“You sold your family’s safety for sex,” Peter mumbled tonelessly. “And here I was thinking that Derek, little bookworm Derek, top-of-his-class-Derek, wouldn’t be such a fool.”

The hand that wasn’t digging into his neck gripped his arm, claws slashing through his shirt and skin and Derek let out a pain-filled moan.

“She told me she was different from the other hunters. That she saw what my family was like and that she would never hurt anyone of them.”

“And you believed her? Why didn’t you listen to her heartbeat, to find out if she told the truth? Have you even thought of doing that?”

“I… She told me not to. She told me a relationship was built on trust and that she trusted me and I should trust her and… that she had to rely on me telling the truth, so I should do so, too.”

“You’re a fool,” Peter mumbled. “You should have known better than to trust her.”

“I know that.” Derek winced when Peter’s hand crushed his shoulder blade and he kicked at him, but Peter only took half a step back, without letting go of him. “I know it was my fault, I know it was foolish of me to trust her, but… you can’t just go around hurting innocent people because of that.”

“Isn’t that exactly what Kate did? Hurting innocent people?” Peter shot back. “What difference does it make now, Derek?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh well, you can’t blame me for that. Losing your family to a fire does that to you. I wonder why you haven’t already lost your mind. You must be packed with guilt.” Peter let go of his shoulder and instead grabbed his chin.

“Show me your eyes.”

When Derek didn’t react, he felt Peter’s claws near his windpipe, ready to crush it.

“Show me your eyes.”

When Derek’s eyes flashed blue, a smile spread across Peter’s lips. “You know, that’s why I kill your friends. Because you killed my wife and kids and my nephews, my niece, my sister, and my brother-in-law. Because it’s _your_ fault I will never watch my girls grow up. It’s your fault I’ve spent years in hospital trapped in my own nightmares.” Peter stepped back, releasing Derek from his grip. Derek breathed in, noticing his vision blurring and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“If it makes you feel any better, I blame myself for it every day.”

Peter shook his head.

“It doesn’t make me feel better. I’m truly sorry for that, but there’s hardly anything you could say that would make me feel better.” He shrugged. “Just… rest assured, Derek. I won’t stop.”

When Derek blinked, Peter was gone.

 

***

 

“Where have you been?” Stiles asked sleepily when Derek opened the door to his room. He shrugged off his bloody sweatshirt and rolled the shoulder Peter had crushed earlier. It seemed fine again, if somewhat stiff.

“Peter,” he mumbled. “I found him.”

“What does he want?” Stiles’ arms wrapped around Derek’s waist and he rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Revenge.”

“He wants to take revenge? Shouldn’t he try to find Kate instead of killing people close to you?”

Derek shook his head. “It’s my fault as well, Stiles.”

Stiles only shook his head. “Come on, let’s go to sleep,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on Derek’s cheek.

For a moment, Derek let himself pretend there was nothing going on, that he had nothing to worry about, and he let Stiles drag him towards the bed, let him wrap blankets around them and place kisses onto his collarbone, his neck, until Stiles reached his mouth. Derek turned around to him, kissing him gently with Stiles’ face in his hands.

“Promise me you stay safe? I… I will try to be around as much as I can, but I won’t be able to follow you all day and…”

Stiles shook his head. “I can take care of myself, Derek. I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“He won’t stop until he has you,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ lips.

Stiles swallowed. “Then we will have to find a way to stop him,” he said, his voice sounding a little strangled, and buried his nose into Derek’s neck. Derek soothingly rubbed over Stiles’ back and watched him fall asleep, heard his breathing slow down, and felt his arms slacken around him. He held him close, his eyes wide open, holding his breath every time someone came up the stairs. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were dark and full of screams and Peter’s smile broadening before his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Special thanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.tumblr.com).
> 
> Say hi on tumblr: [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com) & [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you on Tuesday with some action :)


	20. Chapter 20

[ ](http://imgur.com/Yq0P378)

# Chapter 20

## Stiles had _so_ not signed up for this. (Actually maybe he kind of had. Dating a werewolf and all that.)

 

Stiles groaned when he heard his alarm clock ring and blindly reached out over the broad torso spread out next to him to reach for his phone. It wasn’t until after he had turned it off that he realized where he was, and with whom. He felt a small smile creep across his face and nuzzled his nose into Derek’s neck when he felt him stir.

“Hey”, he murmured. “Sorry. Class.”

Derek just grunted something unintelligible and tightened his arms around Stiles.

“Jerk. I have to go, Derek.”

“I’m coming with you,” Derek growled without opening his eyes.

“No you’re not. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. I’m not staying here and you sure as hell aren’t coming with me.”

“Why not?” Derek asked against his shoulder.

“It’s daylight, Derek. He won’t come after me now, when there’s people everywhere. And if you insist you can walk me home today after my last class.”

Derek sighed and cracked his eyes open. “Fine,” he murmured. “But text me. Often. Please.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You sound like an obsessive girlfriend who needs my attention, like, a hundred and twenty percent of the time.”

“Yeah well, sorry to disappoint. I’m just a worried werewolf with a psychopath uncle running loose who has made death threats against you,” Derek grumbled darkly.

Stiles sighed. “I’ll text you. Promise.”

Derek finally nodded and loosened his grip so Stiles could wriggle out of it.

“I’m using your shower.”

Derek just grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Stiles watched him for another minute until he realized he was probably staring at him with hearts in his eyes and quickly vanished into the bathroom.

When he came back out twenty minutes later, Derek had barely moved and Stiles leaned down to press a kiss into his neck. “I gotta run. I’ll text you between classes.”

Derek nodded and sat up, yawning, before pulling Stiles into a proper kiss.

“Dude. Morning breath,” he murmured against Derek’s lips, but he was smiling.

“Like you care,” grumbled Derek. “Be careful today.”

“Always.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. This time.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. So am I.”

Derek gave him a long look. “Go,” he said finally. “You’ll be late.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Derek nodded.

 

***

 

Stiles was quickly walking across campus to his next class, coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, when he composed his after-lunch-text to Derek. Stiles had to admit his protectiveness was more than a little endearing, but this didn’t stop him from groaning when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket about five seconds after he’d put it back there by carefully balancing his bag and his coffee in one hand. After a moment of hesitation he put the Starbucks cup on the ground so he could check out the text.

_On my way_ , it said. Stiles furrowed his brows, wondering how Derek even knew where he was, but realization dawned when he took another look at the name on his lock screen. But before he could reply, he felt something heavy connect with the back of his head and he was out cold before he even hit the ground.

 

***

 

When he slowly regained consciousness the first thing he felt was pain. A sharp, throbbing kind, which was shooting to his brain in surprisingly regular intervals.

Stiles groaned and winced when he tried to roll over and felt a different kind of pain rip through his wrists and his back. Was he… tied up? Wow. He almost rolled his eyes. Such a cliché.

He slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring at the roof of a… warehouse? Wow. This was getting more and more original.

Stiles managed to sit up and lean against the wall before the panic started to creep up on him. He’d been kidnapped. He felt his heart begin to race and his breathing quicken, but before it could turn into an actual panic attack, a dark shape entered the room.

Stiles swallowed and pushed his fear to the back of his mind. He was going to do what he did best. Talk. Just for a little while. He did some mental calculations, but since he had no idea for how long he'd been unconscious it was no use. He ignored the queasy feeling in his stomach and raised his head to look at his kidnapper. "You must be Peter."

The man smiled and now Stiles could definitely recognize the creepy guy from the coffee shop. "You've done your homework, I see. Good. Killing the dumb ones is much too boring."

Stiles suppressed a shudder and tried to look nonchalant. Without much success he guessed.

"Oh, come on. If you wanted to kill me I wouldn't still be talking to you."

Impossibly, Peter's wide grin got even wider.

"Oh, I do want to kill you. But you see… I have something to settle with my nephew. So I really, _really_ need him to be here to witness it.”

Stiles had to forcibly keep from sighing out in relief. He had time. He’d be okay. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

He took a shaky breath. “Hurting Derek won’t make them come back, you know?” he said quietly.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “So he told you, did he? He must really like you. Did he tell you the rest too? How he told a hunter all our secrets so she could slaughter my whole family? Did he tell you this as well?”

Stiles kept his eyes glued to Peter’s face. “It was his family, too,” he said quietly.

At that Peter burst out laughing and Stiles visibly recoiled. He thought he’d seen a bit of humanity in his eyes when he’d talked about his family but that was gone now. All that was left was the maniac seeking revenge for his murdered family in the wrong place.

“You are one fierce little thing, aren’t you?” Derek’s uncle asked when he’d calmed down.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Did you get all those lines out of Handbook for Villains 101 or something? Because they’re not very original.”

Peter shook his head. “Really, Stiles. Do you think I want this? Do you think I _want_ to be the villain?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “I had two daughters, you know? You have no idea what that feels like. Being a father. Your children are not supposed to die before you. It’s not right.”

“But killing me is?”

Peter smiled coldly. “I don’t actually give a damn, Stiles. You know why? Because the moment my daughters’ and my wife’s and my sister’s heart stopped beating I lost the one thing I had to lose.”

“You still have Derek. And Laura.”

“Derek stopped being my family the moment he let an Argent into his bed. And as for Laura… if my alpha can’t even see who is responsible for our family’s ruin, then how am I to respect her?”

Stiles closed his eyes, resigned. “I don’t even know what to say to that. That’s how backwards your logic is. If you knew me a little better you’d get the significance of that, because I _always_ have something to say.”

Peter’s eyes darkened even more. “You do talk a lot. We should fix that.”

Stiles had about half a second to prepare before Peter’s fist connected with his jaw and he felt a stab of pain shooting through his jaw and his head.

Stiles hissed and instinctively turned away from him. “Has anyone ever told you, you have anger management issues?”, he asked and regretted it immediately when Peter’s fist connected with his nose. Stiles could feel tears form in his eyes from the pain and something warm trickled down his lips. “Case in point,” he muttered and half-expected another blow, but nothing came.

“I can see why he likes you,” Peter said thoughtfully and when Stiles looked up he saw him stretching his fingers. _God,_ the guy was dramatic.

“Oh really?” Stiles spat and immediately flinched when the motion aggravated his nose. Great. Because broken bones where exactly what he needed right now.

“Yes. Strong-minded. Smart. Pretty. Just like Kate.”

Stiles expression darkened. “I am _nothing_ like Kate,” he growled.

Peter laughed. “If you say so, kid.”

Stiles knew he probably shouldn’t but the words came out of his mouth in a rush. “You know who’s like Kate? _You_ are. You’re using me to get to Derek. To hurt him. You know what? Nevermind, you’re _worse_ than Kate. Derek is your family. I know you don’t give a shit about me and that’s okay. But Derek? All he’s ever done is love you! You’rehis uncle, and you’re hurting-”

But Stiles never got to finish his sentence because Peter was at his side in seconds, lifting him up and pressing his throat against the wall. “Stop talking,” he said between gritted teeth, before grabbing his arm and turning it until it cracked and Stiles cried out, slumping against the floor when Peter let go of him.

It took him a few minutes to get his breathing under control, but thinking clearly was becoming harder and harder.

“I’m sorry about your family,” he breathed after a long stretch of silence but he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the werewolf.

“Why, Stiles. It wasn’t your fault now, was it?” Peter’s voice was strangely calm for someone discussing his children’s death. Stiles ignored him.

“I lost my mother when I was ten, you know?” Stiles said, flinching when he moved his shoulder and it did something to his broken bones.

“What makes you think I care?” Peter asked almost casually.

“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone. You want to have someone to blame. You’re angry at the whole world for not saving them and-”

“You have _no idea_ how I feel. None. Okay? And if you don’t stop talking now I’m going to make you.”

“But-”

That was the last thing Stiles got to say because then Peter violently slammed his head into the wall and everything went dark once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> As always, thanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.tumblr.com).
> 
> You can find us on tumblr: [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com) & [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you on Friday!


	21. Chapter 21

 

# Chapter 21

## Fire /ˈfaɪə(r)/: noun - a state, process, or instance of combustion in which fuel or other material is ignited and combined with oxygen, giving off light, heat, and flame

 

Derek felt his fingers trembling when he fished out his phone from his jeans pocket, holding his breath when he switched on the screen. No new messages. He swallowed, checking the time again, for the third time in a row. Stiles should have sent him a text almost ten minutes ago, when he had gotten out of class. He pressed the call button, swallowing when it went straight to voicemail after a few seconds.

A ten-minute walk later he found himself in front of the lecture hall Stiles usually had his class in, but however hard he tried, he couldn’t track him. He jogged across campus, trying to find traces of Stiles’ scent, but even though he could make it out faintly, it wasn’t enough. There were no fresh traces. Nothing that could point Derek to where Stiles had disappeared to.

“Don’t do that, Peter,” he murmured, feeling panic creeping up in his chest. When his phone rang, he almost jumped, but the glimmer of hope was crushed the second he saw that it wasn’t Stiles who was calling.

“Please tell me you know where Stiles is,” his sister said, slightly out of breath.

“Why?”

“Just… tell me.”

Derek furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, Laura, he was supposed to text me -”

“Fuck. Okay, I’m on my way, give me another twenty minutes or so, tell your friends, Erica and the big guy, to meet us in front of Starbucks. I’ll explain later.”

“You know about Peter?” Derek asked hesitantly.

“Stiles told me. I swear to God, Derek, if Stiles’ life wasn’t at stake right now, I’d kill you for not telling me! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I… I don’t know, Laura.”

“We’ll talk about this.” She hung up before Derek could say anything else.

 

***

 

“You know, you could have told us what was going on.” Erica made a step towards Derek and hugged him, pressing her lips together in a thin line. Boyd put a hand on his shoulder with a short nod and even Allison, who Derek had called in a spur-of-the-moment decision, shared a look of concern with him. They were in front of the Starbucks on campus, like Laura had ordered, and students were streaming in and out, busy with their phones, no one paying attention to them.

“Have you looked for him everywhere? Maybe his class was moved to another room or…,” Erica started, but Derek shook his head.

“I looked, Erica. But… I found Stiles’ phone in a trashcan. Peter… he wanted me to find it, I’m sure.”

“Can you track Peter’s scent?” Allison asked, and Derek wondered what was in the huge duffel bag slung across her shoulder.

He shook his head. “He’s pretty good at hiding his scent, so no, I can’t.”

“I can track them,” a voice behind them said.

Laura smirked when Derek turned around to her, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“We need to hurry,” she said. “And I’m gonna deal with you later, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Stiles told me about Peter the second you two found out about him.”

Derek nodded, not able to look at his sister. “We have to hurry.”

Laura ushered them into her rented car, squinting at Allison for a second before she pulled the car door shut behind her. “This might take some time, but I should be able to sense Peter somehow. I always know when Derek’s nearby, it’s not so much smelling as it is a gut feeling, so I hope we’ll find them like that.”

In the back seat, squeezed in between Erica and Boyd, Allison fiddled with her bag, taking out a bow and arrow.

“My dad taught me how to use it. It might slow him down, if he attacks.”

Laura nodded. “I thought you didn’t hunt?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m coming unprepared.”

Laura shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “Fair enough.” She rolled down the windows despite the cold January air, but otherwise they wouldn’t be able to pick up any scent.

“Is there anywhere nearby he could hide? Not too far off-campus, I suppose. He wants us to find him. Wants you to find him.” She looked at Derek.

“There’s an old warehouse,” Boyd said before Derek could reply. “It’s practically abandoned, but it’s close to campus. It would make sense to hide there.”

Derek’s eyes widened.

“And he knows I know it. I sometimes go there during the full moon.”

He should’ve known. He could have been there an hour ago, if he had just thought of it, instead of panicking and looking for Stiles on campus. He shook his head. Of course, it was only logical for Peter to hide there. His scent must be all over the place, he’d know Derek would go there regularly and it was close, but a bit off-campus, unlike Braeden and Scott. Stiles’ phone in the trashcan had been a clear invitation to go looking for them, which could only mean Peter wanted them to find him before he killed Stiles. He wanted Derek to play by his rules. Wanted to show him what he was capable of.

Derek pressed his mouth together into a thin line, biting the inside of his lip to stop tears from filling his eyes.

If anything happened to Stiles, it was his fault.

“We will find him,” Laura said quietly, almost inaudibly, her fingers finding Derek’s hand and squeezing it tightly before letting go again.

Laura stopped the car, parking it at the side of the street. The old warehouse was a bit further down the road, but they wanted to get as close as possible without being heard by Peter. Laura turned around to the back seat. “They’re in there. I can feel him.” She paused, as if to calm herself down before she spoke her next words. “Do whatever you have to do to stop Peter from hurting Stiles.”

 

***

 

The first thing he smelled when they opened the door to the warehouse was blood. Fresh, warm blood, drowning out the smell of moist, stale air, of mold and rats, the faint smell of gasoline and every other scent - Peter’s, even Stiles’.

“You took your time. I must say; I expected you sooner than that.”

Derek turned around at the same time as the others, following the direction of Peter’s voice. He lunged forward when he could make out his uncle’s silhouette, but Laura grabbed his wrist, signaling him to stay.

Peter chuckled. “So you brought your friends, I see. I would have thought you were braver than that, Derek. My bad. But, you know, I should probably thank you. This definitely makes it easier for me.”

“Let Stiles go, Peter. This is between you and me, leave Derek and Stiles out of it,” Laura snarled, making a few steps forward. Derek was right behind her and now he could see that Peter was crouching on the floor, a lifeless body in his lap. Stiles. He breathed in deeply, feeling panic creeping up in him.

“Calm down, he’s alive. I just had to knock him out for a bit; he _wouldn’t shut up_. I can’t see why you like him so much. I almost threw over my plans and killed him on the spot.”

“Let him go,” Derek said through gritted teeth, but Peter only smiled at him, shaking his head.

“Don’t even think about coming closer, Derek. One step and I will snap his neck.” He placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, his fingernails digging into the skin.

“Let’s talk first, shall we? I normally would prefer to keep conversations like these private, but it seems like there’s nothing I can do about your little friends being here. Well then.” He rolled his shoulders. “Taking all of your little friends with you was a bad idea, Derek. Is there anyone left? Anyone else you care about?”

Derek didn’t say anything. Peter was right. There wasn’t anyone else left. Stiles, Laura, Erica and Boyd were the people he was closest to. He opened his mouth, but Peter’s attention was on Laura instead.

“You knew, didn’t you? About Derek’s secret girlfriend. You knew it was her who burned our family. You knew it and still you try to protect your little brother, still you stand on his side instead of mine. As an alpha, you should be on the side of your pack. Do what is best for you pack. Can’t you see? Can’t you see what he did to us? He should have been exiled the day he let an Argent infiltrate our family. Instead of fighting on his side, you should take a step back, look at what your brother really is.” Peter got up, letting Stiles’ body slump carelessly to the ground. “You were never meant to be an alpha. Your brothers, yes. But never you. But when your mother died, the alpha spark got passed on to you of all people. I should have been the alpha. Instead, I was locked into the house, I had to watch my family die and feel the skin burn from my bones. If the alpha spark had been passed on to me, maybe I would have been strong enough to save them. My wife. My children. Your brothers.”

Next to him, Laura looked as if she was close to crying, but her face hardened.

“Derek made a mistake trusting Kate. And it had awful consequences for all of us. But he knows that, he lives with that guilt. And he didn’t do it on purpose. This doesn’t make our family come back and I get that you’re angry with him, but that doesn’t give you the right to murder innocent people.”

Peter shook his head. “Revenge gives me every right to kill, Laura. He destroyed my life and he deserves every single thing I’m going to do to him.” With that, he crashed down his foot on Stiles’ arm.

“Stop!” Derek yelled and this time he couldn’t force himself to stop tears from filling his eyes.

“As your alpha, I command you to stop,” Laura said. Her voice was unsteady, trembling.

“You’re not my alpha, Laura. You shouldn’t have become alpha, but that won’t matter for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Peter only crushed Stiles’ arm again. This time, Derek couldn’t hold back; he lunged at Peter, grabbing his shoulders. He half expected Peter to fight him off, but his uncle only grinned, white teeth flashing in the darkness of the warehouse. “I’m glad you still haven’t managed to surprise me.” From the corner of his eye, Derek could see something flashing in Peter’s hand, but before he could make out what it was, it hit the ground behind them, lighting it up into flames. From one second to the other, Derek could smell the gasoline like a heavy blanket above him. He had been too concerned about the smell of blood to notice it before but now it was too late. He looked back into Laura’s eyes, wide with fear, when he saw the flames dividing the ground between them.

Next to him, Peter stared into the fire. His voice trembled a bit when he spoke.

“Isn’t justice something beautiful? Now you will watch them burn, don’t worry, we’ll get out. Something you can’t exactly say of your little friends here.”

He grabbed Derek’s arm to pull him away from the fire, but before Derek could react, Peter cried out in pain, before staring at his chest in horror. There, only inches away from his heart, was a black arrow, its head deep in the flesh.

Allison. Derek glanced in the direction of the fire and there she stood, her bow in hand and her eyes wide.

Derek grabbed Peter’s shoulder, slamming him down onto the ground next to Stiles’ body. The flames almost burned their skin, and Derek could feel Peter flinch away, but instead he rolled both of them even closer to the fire, slamming the arrow deeper into Peter’s chest. Peter howled in pain when Derek rolled them through the flames, hissing when the flames hit his skin, burning it before they emerged out of it again. Someone grabbed for Derek, pulling him away from the heat, away from Peter, and Derek turned around to where Stiles was, still unconscious. He whispered his name, over and over again, and dug his fingers into his hoodie, but Stiles didn’t move. His heartbeat was weak and so was his breathing; there was blood on the side of his head, and claw marks which revealed muscle on his neck.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Boyd said next to him, and Derek nodded. Somewhere close by, someone screamed, and for a split second he was reminded of his dreams, of his parents burning in the flames. It was his fault. Exactly like the fire that had taken his family, this fire was his fault. The fact that Peter had become mad was his fault.

“Derek!” Allison cried next to him and yanked at his arm. “Get out!” He nodded, grabbing Stiles and winced as he noticed the way his arm was at an odd angle, yanking his body over his shoulder. They had to get out of here.

He tried to ignore the flames around them and instead focused on finding a way around the fire. Erica and Boyd were directly in front of him, and Laura - Laura. He turned around the moment he heard a crash and Laura let out a pained cry, but he couldn’t really make her out in the flames.

“She’s taking care of Peter,” Erica said, tugging his arm. “Come on, she’ll be right behind us.”

Derek shook his head when Laura let out another cry of agony. “No. Take Stiles, call an ambulance, I’ll be right back. Don’t wait for us.” For a moment, they locked eyes, then Erica carefully lifted Stiles and turned around.

Derek turned back to his sister, the flames burning his skin. Laura’s cries had turned into sobs, and then he saw them, Peter kneeling above her, his shirt bloodied. Laura’s leg was a ripped open, burnt mess from where a burning wooden bar had hit her.

“You’re not an alpha, Laura,” Peter whispered. “You’re weak. You lack confidence in your powers.” He scraped his claws against her neck. “Come on, Laura. Fight me. You want to get out of here, don’t you? Then fight me. Kill me.” He huffed a laugh. “You can’t, am I right?”

Derek pulled Peter away from his sister, his fist colliding with the side of his uncle’s head, but this only brought a grin to Peter’s face. He was bleeding; the arrow was still in his chest, but his eyes were wide and bright blue, his half-shifted face distorted to a grimace.

“Get up,” Laura said next to them with clenched teeth. “Let’s get out before it’s too late and deal with… with whatever this is outside.”

“I don’t think so,” Peter snarled and rammed his claws into Derek’s arm.

“What are you doing?” Derek yelled, pushing Peter back. “You’re gonna get us all killed if we don’t get out!”

Above them, something started creaking, but Derek didn’t dare to look what it was. Peter took the moment of hesitation and grabbed his shoulders, tackling Derek to the floor.

“You think I want to live? I don’t care about dying, Derek.” Peter’s mouth was slightly agape when he stared at him, a small stream of blood dribbling down at him. “But I changed my mind; I’m gonna take you with me. Poetic justice, don’t you think?”

Derek’s hand moved upwards, his claws popping out in a swift motion which he couldn’t quite comprehend, and he lashed out at Peter’s throat. He wanted to kill him. In this moment, there was nothing else he’d rather do. He wanted to make Peter pay for killing Braeden and hurting Scott and Stiles, wanted to make him pay for trying to destroy his life. He wanted to make him pay, and the feeling terrified him, but he nevertheless lashed out at him.

He barely noticed Laura yelling behind him, but before his hand collided with skin and flesh, before his claws could rip out Peter’s throat, his uncle’s head buckled sideways, lifeless eyes staring at him in mild surprise. Laura stood above them, bending over, tears in her eyes.

“I killed him,” she whispered, her eyes wide with horror. The skin on her leg had almost healed again when she stretched out an arm to help Derek get up. They shared a small glance before Derek turned around to find a way around the flames. When he turned back to Laura, she heaved up Peter’s body from the floor, carrying him like a bag over her shoulder, her face still full of tears. There was barely any air left to breathe, he noticed, when he fought his way through the fire and he thought he could hear screams. “Mom,” he whispered as he went on, and then, “Stiles,” before everything went black.

 

***

 

“Wake up, you idiot,” someone yelled, and a hand slapped against his face. He was cold. He blinked, opening his eyes to look at Erica, who gave him a small and grateful smile. “You scared me, you huge idiot. I had to go back to fetch you.”

Derek nodded, slightly confused, sitting up and brushing the snow from his shirt. Right. The fire. Peter. Laura. Stiles. He opened his mouth, but Erica only pointed to a spot a couple of feet next to him.

“Over there. Laura is okay and Stiles, well.” She paused for a moment before facing Derek again. “He’ll… live.He’s unconscious, but an ambulance should be here in a few.” She glanced at him. “You should go. Laura too. Your clothes are all burned, but you’ve already healed, this will raise too many questions.”

“What about Peter?” Derek asked, swallowing down the pain at the mention of his name. There would be time for that later. Erica thought for a moment before she pulled out the small box of wolfsbane pills.

“So… wolfsbane makes a dead werewolf’s body transform into a wolf. I don’t know if it works with wolfsbane pills, but if it does, we have our rabid wolf that killed Braeden and attacked Scott,” Erica said carefully, with a glance at Derek, before,walking over to Peter’s body. She crushed a wolfsbane pill between her fingers, rubbing it into one of Peter’s multiple wounds with a look of pure disgust on her face. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, Peter’s body started to transform, his face elongating, fur spreading on his skin, until, instead of Peter, a large, dark grey wolf lay before them.

The sound of sirens shook Derek out of his stupor, and he scrambled over to where Stiles was lying on what seemed to be Boyd’s and Erica’s jackets. “I need to go,” he whispered, unsure if Stiles could hear him. “I’m so sorry for what happened.” He pressed a kiss against Stiles’ forehead, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Stiles stirred, his eyelids fluttering.

“It’s my fault,” Derek said, squeezing his hand.

“...erek,” Stiles mumbled, his eyes unfocused. Derek squeezed his hand one more time, bending down to kiss the corner of Stiles’ mouth when he saw the ambulance approaching. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling Laura’s presence behind him. He stood up, taking her hand, and together, they ran to their car on the other side of the warehouse, as fast as they could.

When Laura sacked into the driver’s seat, she looked at him, her eyes puffy and red. “I need to go home,” she said, starting the car.

Derek looked at her, hesitating. He couldn’t leave Stiles. But then again, Stiles was better off without him. He almost died today, and it was his fault. His alone. Maybe it was better this way.

He nodded. “Let’s go home, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos and feedback, it means everything.  
> Also, brace yourselves for A TON of feels next week! (Sorry not sorry)
> 
> Special thanks as always to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.tumblr.com).
> 
> Say hi on tumblr if you like: [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com) & [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)


	22. Chapter 22

# Chapter 22

## Stiles had said it, hadn't he? It really had been too good to be true.

 

 

First there were sounds.

Muffled voices.

Sometimes they would vanish and then just come right back.

Sometimes they gave Stiles a headache and he went back to sleep.

 

***

 

Then there was a different voice. His… dad?

Stiles tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t oblige. His mouth did though, but he couldn’t do more than croak. He instantly felt someone grab his hand, saying something to him he couldn’t make out, but then it was all too much again and he went back under.

 

***

 

When he finally did open his eyes, he was alone. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and a few minutes to remember why. Then it all came back in a rush, Peter, the warehouse, the… he felt his breathing quicken, sending a sharp stab of pain through his chest, and a wave of nausea wash over him.

The obnoxious beeping sound suddenly sped up and a nurse was by his side within seconds, asking him question and sending too-bright streams of light into his irises, making his head pound. He was exhausted by the time she left and let his dad in, but at least he didn’t pass out again.

“Hey, Dad,” he said weakly and attempted a smile through the fog still clouding his mind. “What are you doing here?”

The sheriff’s brows were furrowed with worry but he gently cradled his son’s face in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. ”Are you kidding? My son was fatally injured. I got on the first plane.” He sat down next to the bed, a pained expression on his face.

“Stiles, I… Jesus, I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you…” he swallowed and left the sentence hanging there in the air.

“I’m okay, Dad,” Stiles said quietly.

“Like hell you are,” the sheriff muttered darkly.

Stiles grimaced and immediately regretted it, when his whole face started to hurt. “How bad is it?”

“You have a broken arm and a few broken ribs, one of which almost punctured your lung, and you hit your head pretty hard. They tell me you also have a lot of bruises and some minor burns and your nose was almost broken.”

Stiles swallowed. “Right.”

The sheriff gave him a long look. “I’m not going to ask now because you’re still recovering, but we _will_ talk about what happened there, do you understand?” Stiles nodded, relieved.

He needed to talk to everyone first, get the official story from them and ask Derek-

“Der-, Dad, is- is Derek here?”

He only barely stopped himself from asking if he was okay. No need for his dad to know he had been involved.

The sheriff shook his head. “Sorry kiddo. Allison told me he’s in Beacon Hills with his sister. Something about their uncle, I think… But that’s not for you to worry about, okay? You just focus on getting well, okay?” he said, getting up and moving towards the door.

Stiles nodded weakly and watched his dad leave, feeling nauseous once more, but this time he didn’t think it was from his concussion.

 

***

 

They wouldn’t let Allison visit until he could sit up on his own without any crying out in pain the next day. She hugged him gently, ever so considerate and kissed him on the cheek.

“Scott wanted to come,” she said by way of greeting as she sat down in the chair next to his bed. “But he’s not allowed out of bed for long yet.”

Stiles nodded and smiled weakly. “‘s alright. I’ve got his better half here anyway.”

Allison blushed slightly, but she was grinning. “Sap,” she said, and nudged his hip.

“So,” Stiles asked, sitting up a little straighter and lowering his voice. “What’s the official story?”

“Short version? You got mugged. I found you. No one else was there.”

Stiles could practically feel the names she didn’t say float around them.

“Peter?” was all he asked.

“They found a dead wolf close to the warehouse. It’s the one that must have attacked Scott and killed Braeden,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not connected to your mugging, though.”

Stiles nodded. “Thanks.” He bit his lip and hesitantly looked up at her. “Derek?”

Allison frowned and Stiles thought he could even see pity in his eyes. “He’s still in Beacon Hills. I haven’t heard from him since the day before yesterday. I’m sorry.”

Stiles nodded and swallowed. “Would you… could you text him and let him know I’m okay?”

Allison smiled bitterly. “Already did. No response.”

Stiles swallowed down the knot of hurt curling in his throat and looked down at his hands. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

They’d given him his phone back a few hours ago and the only missed calls and messages he had from Derek were from the day of the kidnapping. Radio silence since then, so Alli’s news wasn’t exactly unexpected.

That, unfortunately, didn’t make it hurt any less.

 

***

 

Scott was allowed to visit the next morning and wanted to give him a bone-crushing hug, but Stiles’ horrified look stopped him just in time.

“Dude,” Stiles said weakly, but smiled. “Ribs, remember?”

“Ugh, yeah, sorry,” Scott said, his eyes widening.

Stiles shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Scotty.”

“Your outfit’s killing it, man,” Scott laughed, pointing at Stiles’ hospital gown.

“You’re not so bad yourself, asshole,” Stiles said grinning.

Scott sat down on Stiles’ bed, wincing a bit. From what Stiles could see under Scott’s hospital gown, the side of his belly was swollen and bandaged and his skin was bruised all over.

“How are you, man?” Stiles asked him and Scott shrugged.

“Could be better, I’m hurting all over, but it’s okay. I don’t get it, dude, first I got attacked, then a couple days later some guy’s trying to mug you?”

Stiles swallowed, then shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“I know, right? We live in a crazy world.”

“What is it you’re not telling me?” Scott demanded to know.

Okay, so maybe he just wasn’t able to lie to Scott.

 

***

 

“Werewolves,” Scott mumbled a few hours later, his mouth slightly agape. Allison stood next to him, slightly awkward, patting his shoulder, while Erica had her arms crossed, watching them with a bored expression.

“Can I go? I did the eye trick, am I free to leave now? Puppy face here looks like he’s going to puke and I really don’t need that right now.”

“Sure,” Allison said with a side glance to Scott, who stared at Erica with wide eyes, as if she was some kind of monster. Well, to be honest, she was, to some extent, right? And Erica was scary enough on a normal day, she didn’t need glowing eyes and fangs.

Somehow, this had been a mistake, Stiles thought, considering how Scott looked right now - pale and wide-eyed. He didn’t talk, only grasped Allison’s hand and squeezed it and it looked kinda hilarious, when he thought of it. For a second, Stiles wanted to take a photo and text Derek, but yeah. Different story.

So for the moment he let his attention shift back to his best friend, who still looked sick.

“So, Derek’s one, too?” Scott asked after a while. “Knew I couldn’t trust him.”

Stiles only nodded numbly and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he just wanted to be alone.“I’m tired,” he mumbled and Allison and Scott almost instantly excused themselves to leave him alone as he let his head fall back onto the pillows. This was one of the few advantages of being in hospital - whenever he wanted to be alone he’d just pretend to be tired. He sighed, staring at the ceiling. In retrospect, it had been a bit of a mistake to send them away. Now he was alone with his thoughts about Derek, alone with his conflicted feelings - parts anger, parts sadness. And to be honest, this just sucked.

 

***

 

He texted Laura. Actually, this was the only logical conclusion, right? Laura was the person most likely to know why Derek had reacted the way he had, why he was ignoring Stiles, and why he had left in the first place. Maybe losing a pack member had been so painful for the both of them he just couldn’t function properly? Maybe… he shook his head, instead typing away on his phone.

 

Stiles: _Hey, i know this is kinda out of line since derek refuses to talk to me for some reason, but how is he? how are you?_

 

He put his phone away, turned on the TV instead and eventually settled on a rerun of _Two and a Half Men_ before he dozed off. When he woke up again, he felt disoriented for a moment or two, until he remembered Peter and the hospital and the lack of Derek, which made his life even more of a miserable mess than it already was. He glanced at his phone, his heart pounding loudly when he noticed the little LED light indicating a new text message.

 

Laura: **_not going to lie, neither me nor derek are fine. didn’t know he doesn’t talk to you, why’s that? we don’t talk much, he’s pretty closed off._**

Stiles: _:( hope you’ll be better soon. i don’t know, he never told me_

 

There was no response for a couple more hours until his phone chimed quietly and he reached for it, deeply sucking in his breath in pain. His ribs were killing him, quite literally, actually, since his broken rib had almost punctured his lung.

 

Laura: **_i think he’s anxious about something. i’m not sure what it is. just.. let him sulk. he’ll come to his senses again, i’m sure. should i talk to him?_**

Stiles: _no, don’t talk to him about it. pretty sure he wouldn’t take this very well.._

Laura: **_okay. he’ll come around, don’t worry._**

 

Would he? Stiles thought bitterly before he put his phone away again. What if… what if Derek wouldn’t come around? Please, don’t do that to me, he thought. He didn’t really want to imagine a world without Derek. Sure, he’d get over him somehow, but it would be a long and painful process. His world was somehow brighter with Derek in it. Which, come to think of it, was ironic, seeing that Derek was of a rather grumpy and brooding nature, but he filled a hole in Stiles’ life and he really didn’t want to miss that. He grabbed his blanket in a frustrated manner and threw it over his head, cursing when he remembered his broken rib again. His life was just _great_.

 

***

 

“Dad, it’s okay.”

His father stood next to his bed, clasping his hand. He had to get back to Beacon Hills again and Stiles was pretty sure his Dad would start crying any second now.

“I’m good, Dad, really.. I get it, you have to get back to work. It’s no problem.” Stiles smiled at his dad, who nodded, concern on his face.

“Just call me. Call me often. Immediately tell me if something’s wrong and take your pain killers, but not too much of them.”

He put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Just be safe,” he told him.

“Dad, I’m in a hospital. I think I’ll be pretty safe here.”

His father nodded.

“I love you.”

“Me too, Dad. Take care of you. Don’t order pizza too often and don’t eat donuts. And don’t forget about your weekly dinner with Melissa, she’s a great cook and it’s so much healthier for you to eat home cooked food.” Stiles swallowed. “Take care.”

“You too.”

When his dad closed the door behind him, Stiles felt tears in his eyes. He shook his head, dried his eyes with the back of his hand and tried not to think about he’d be able to see his dad again. Instead, he heaved up from his bed, clasping his ribcage, grabbed his Nintendo and made his way to Scott’s room. He could at least count on Scotty to lift up his spirits.

“Is he gone already?” Scott asked him as soon as he entered the room. Stiles nodded. “It… it was really nice seeing him every day,” he admitted and Scott grinned. “I know, man. C’mere.” He climbed into Scott’s bed like back when they had been kids, and Scott reached for his own Nintendo. “Like in the good old days,” he told Stiles when they connected their handhelds and started playing Pokémon until one of the nurses told Stiles to leave.

 

***

 

He could leave hospital a week later, only two days after Scott, but although all his friends where there, he wasn’t exactly overjoyed. Somehow he had hoped for some sign from Derek before he was back in college again, before he was out of this bubble he had been in while in hospital. Somehow, it had felt like time standing still, but now he was out it was no denying anymore that it had, in fact, been three weeks already. Three weeks without a single message or call from Derek. Three goddamn weeks.

At first, it was rather easy to ignore the feeling - after all, he had Scott and Alli and Erica and Boyd and oddly enough, even Isaac who took care of him, and he spent his first night home with Scott sleeping in the bed next to him. Scott claimed it was for the sake of bro-time, but in reality Scott was there to wake him up in the case of a nightmare. In the end, Stiles was woken up by Scott’s loud snoring at 4 a.m. and couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried.

He dragged himself to class the next day, after all, he had much to catch up. When he sat down at his usual spot in the second row, a certain redhead sat down next to him, plunking a couple books and a notepad in front of him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not your usual spot,” Stiles told Lydia dumbfounded.

“I would suggest you shut up if you want me to help you make up for the last couple of weeks you’ve missed,” she said without looking at him.

“Why…” he started, staring at Lydia with his mouth hanging open a bit.

“You’re the second-best in this class and I want it to stay that way. You’re talented and, well, it would be a waste if you’d fall behind.”

Stiles nodded, for once keeping his mouth shut when Lydia finally turned to him with a sweet smile. She was terrifying. Completely and utterly terrifying and he cursed himself a bit for being over her. The Stiles from about four months ago would have enjoyed himself.

 

***

 

It was back in his room that evening when he had his first breakdown. His broken rib hurt from carrying his books around all day, he was tired and exhausted and feeling a little bit lost since he’d missed so much, and he was _alone_. There was no Derek next to him listening to his ranting or crawling into his bed suggesting to watch a movie just so he could calm down.

“I hate him,” he told his laptop.

“He’s a fucking coward,” he told the Edward Hopper poster Derek had forgotten to take down.

“Asshole,” he mumbled, hugging his pillow.

He turned on his heartbreak playlist on his laptop until the guy next door hammered against the wall. He turned up the volume then, singing along to his music until his lungs hurt and he was too exhausted to think straight anymore.

Thing was, though, he thought about an hour later, he didn’t hate Derek. He hated his decision to break off contact and he wasn’t sure how and if he could ever forgive him for that, but he didn’t hate Derek as a person. Quite the contrary, even. Which was why the whole thing hurt even more.

Hating him would make forgetting about him so much easier. A voice in the back of Stiles’ head asked him what if he didn’t have to forget about Derek, but Stiles brushed it off. He would have to get over Derek. The possibility of him coming back got smaller with every passing day.

So he had to get over Derek and their two-day relationship, and, more importantly, their months-long friendship, and, for a moment, Stiles wanted to be a few months back in time, back when he was pining, when he didn’t know about how Derek felt about him. A smile ghosted around his lips when he thought back to their not quite date, to ice skating, dinner and a bad movie, to the genuine smile on Derek’s lips when he put on the bracelet Stiles had gotten him.

He wondered if he was still wearing it.

Okay, so he wondered a lot of things, mainly what Derek’s motive for not calling him and pretending Stiles didn’t exist was exactly. He was pretty sure this was one of those things he would never be able to let go until he knew why.

When he started crying, he blamed it on his aching rib, and he curled up, folding his hands over his knees and just sobbed into his pillow. Was it him? Was he the problem? Was it something else? He contemplated calling Scott, but on second thought, Scott was just not the one he needed. Right now, he needed the one person he didn’t have.

After a while he forced himself to stop crying. He needed to get over this. And he was pretty sure he could, somehow; he just needed some kind of closure. He reached for his phone, staring at Derek’s name. This was the only option, wasn’t it? Calling him, asking him what the fuck he’d been thinking. He wasn’t asking for too much, was he? He only needed an answer to one simple question. Why.

It was late when Stiles finally had the guts to call, but not too late for Derek not to answer.

“Pick up,” he whispered.

“Pick up and answer me one simple question.”

“Come on.”

He waited.

He waited and chewed at his fingernails and prepared for hearing Derek’s voice again for the first time after weeks and imagined what he could say to him, what his voice would be like - whether it would be gruff or soft.

He waited and with each second he felt his chances of closure dissipating.

He waited even though he hated waiting and somehow thought someone should get him a medal for it because waiting was all he had done in the last couple of weeks.

He waited.

But Derek didn't pick up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We were not especially happy with this chapter, so _really, thank you!_  
>  Special hanks to [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.tumblr.com).
> 
> In case you feel like saying hi: [Julie](honeywolf.tumblr.com) & [Helena](mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, sorry about the delay and see you on Friday with the second to last chapter :)


	23. Chapter 23

 

# Chapter 23

## Anchor /ˈæŋkə(r)/: noun - a person or thing which provides stability or confidence

 

Losing a pack member was like losing a limb. Whoever had told him that hadn’t had the slightest idea. Losing a pack member was like getting your heart ripped out of your chest, it was like getting wolfsbane stuffed down your throat, it was like being torn into pieces and sewn back together. And although it wasn’t the first time for Derek, he was barely able to keep himself functioning.

Next to him, Laura was sobbing quietly, her head on Derek’s shoulder, wordlessly staring into nothing. He had an arm slung around her, concentrating on her heartbeat, staring out of the plane window. Losing a pack member was different from losing any other person you were close with. Because, truth to be told, he’d never been close to Peter. But losing him hurt nevertheless, it ripped another hole next to the one the rest of his family had left behind.

 

***

 

Laura didn’t talk for hours after they had finally made it home. When the trail of her tears stopped and her cheeks finally dried, it didn’t make it any better - she just sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hands, her whole body shivering. Derek sat down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder hesitantly, barely daring to touch her.

“Laura?”, he asked. In the silence of their house, his whisper seemed to echo from the walls.

She didn’t look up, only shaking her head.

“I’m gonna unpack,” he told her after a moment of waiting for her response.

He turned on his phone on the way upstairs to Laura’s room, noticing the five missed calls and nine texts with a frown. Erica.

 

Erica: _you know, when i told u to go i didn’t mean go back to california_

Erica: _stiles is fine. he has a broken arm and a concussion and a rib came close to puncturing his lung but the doctors say he’ll get through_

 

Derek stared at his phone, almost crushing it between his fingers. Stiles’ life had been in danger. And it was his fault. He was shivering when he read on, anxious for the rest of the texts.

 

Erica: _call me as soon as you’re out of your freakin plane. at least i assume you went back home with your sister considering you didn’t tell anyone_

Erica: _what should we tell stiles when he wakes up? u coming back?_

Erica: _he needs you_

 

He put the phone away and opened Laura’s duffle bag, starting to put her things away, feeling numb and empty. When he felt his wet cheeks, he wondered when he had started crying and he sunk down on the floor, shaking. Stiles hadn’t fucking deserved any of that. Stiles hadn’t deserved being pulled into that mess. Stiles deserved something normal, happy, no matter how much Derek longed for him.

When he got into bed, bleary-eyed, he still hadn’t texted back. Instead, he curled himself into his blanket, hoping for some warmth to start settling in. He folded his arms around one of his pillows, burying his face into the soft fabric, but instead of comforting him in any way, it reminded him of New Year’s Eve, of Stiles jumping onto his bed, snuggling his pillows and complaining about their dorm beds. He rubbed his eyes. Why was his mind doing this to him? Wasn’t every single thing that had happened enough? Why wouldn’t his mind just shut the fuck up?

In the end, he grabbed his pillow and threw it across the room, then turned around, facing the wall, and closed his eyes. Not that he fell asleep, but he could at least pretend.

He heard footsteps moments later, and Laura crawled into the bed, wordlessly. She buried her face into his chest, throwing her arms around him.

“It’s okay,” Derek said quietly.

“I killed him.”

Derek’s hand found the back of Laura’s head, and he awkwardly started to stroke her hair, her back, noticing her clinging onto him as if she was drowning.

“You had to,” he told her, but she shook her head.

“I could have acted differently. I… I should have. I killed my beta. I killed our uncle. I…” she shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face.

“You saved my life, Laura. He… Peter lost his mind, he couldn’t tell right from wrong anymore. He wouldn’t have stopped.”

Laura stayed silent for a moment, then looked up to him, her lips in a tight line.

“I’m just scared that one day I’m going to wake up and… and be like him. Broken beyond repair. What if, after all those people we’ve lost have left nothing but a huge hole, we’ll just break some day?”

“But we have each other. Peter thought… he thought he’d lost everyone.”

Laura just shook her head, looking at him with sad eyes.

“And what if one day we don’t have each other anymore? You saw what losing our pack could make out of us. Losing the most important people in our lives…” She shook her head. “It wasn’t his fault. He was feral, completely out of his mind. That’s what the fire turned him into.”

Derek closed his arms tighter around her, ruffling his hands through her hair once more before closing his eyes, but his heart was pounding too loudly, too fast for him to fall asleep. Laura was right. The fire had made Peter a monster. The fire had changed him - maybe it had the power to change Derek, too, at some point.

 

***

 

They didn’t talk much, those first couple of days back home. Laura binge-watched TV-shows on Netflix, and they more than once fell asleep together watching _House of Cards_ or _Modern Family_ late at night and sometimes it even felt peaceful to have Laura, his alpha, his _pack_ , right next to him, curled up and eating Cheetos. Sometimes it felt like they could do this. Like they could get over Peter’s death, and the weird feeling he had left behind. On other days, something was missing. And Derek just wasn’t sure if this something had anything to do with Peter at all.

Erica’s texts weren’t helping. After two days, her texts had gotten downright insulting, calling him an asshole and a coward for not calling Stiles in between her updates. Apparently, he had woken up again and aside from a broken arm and rib, he was fine, but Erica refused to tell him anything else, telling him he should call Stiles if he wanted to know how he was doing.

He didn’t. He spent every day looking at his phone in an eternal battle over calling him, but in the end, he never did. It was for the best.

Stiles didn’t call either. He didn’t even text, apparently accepting the radio silence. Derek didn’t know if he should be glad or hurt, so he just pushed every feeling back into some remote corner of his conscience and instead tried to focus on his sister, on her well-being.

He found his hand hovering above the leather bracelet he got from Stiles, the one that he hadn’t once taken off his wrist. The triskele on its front shone in the light and the leather was soft against his skin. Stiles had told him to find some new meaning for the triskele, but he hadn’t thought of anything so far. He should just take it off, he knew, stuff it into some drawer and forget about it, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready, even though he knew he should do it.

Erica’s calls and texts got fewer, she seemed gradually more pissed at him as the days progressed. Derek answered his phone a few times, but cut her off each time she mentioned Stiles. At some point, Allison started calling him, not giving up until Derek almost considered switching off his phone.

“You’re a huge asshole for not talking to him,” she started when he finally answered one of her calls and he hung up, panting and unsure of what he could have said.

 

***

 

His professors back at Harvard seemed very understanding about his absence - they couldn’t really say no to someone telling them he and his sister had just lost their only family member they had had left, Derek thought bitterly. As long as he handed in his assignments, he could stay a little longer. Not that he was ready to go back to Boston any time soon.

It was funny, he thought, while Laura used his arm as a pillow, looking exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed - a couple of months back, Boston had been his safe haven, and the house in Beacon Hills had haunted him in his dreams. Without Stiles, he wouldn’t have been able to go back to where his family had been killed, he wouldn’t have been able to sit here with Laura, comforting her. But he wouldn’t call this house his safe haven. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable here, only enduring it for Laura’s sake. Only enduring it because if he was completely honest with himself, there was nowhere else he could go.

 

***

 

“You’re back to your old self,” Laura said a few days later, out of the blue.

“Thanks?” He wasn’t completely sure what she meant.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. You’re back to you old, grumpy self that doesn’t talk much. You bury yourself in homework, and I haven’t seen you smile once, since we got home.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Derek snapped back, harsher than intended. “You barely talk more than two sentences a day.”

“I killed our uncle. I lost a beta. I’m sorry I’m not in the mood for talking lately.” She crossed her arms in front of her, frowning.

“I lost him, too,” Derek said quietly. “That’s -”

Laura violently shook her head. “No, see, that’s not it. Sure, you probably feel shit about losing a pack member, but that’s not all of it, right?”

He stared at her, unsure of what to say.

“It’s Stiles, isn’t it?”

“What about him?”

“The fact that you’re not talking to him?”

“None of you business.”

Laura shook her head, looking somewhat resigned, but didn’t try to keep him from walking out of the living room when he turned around without another word. Somehow, he had hoped she would.

 

***

 

Then the calls started. The first was in the middle of the night, and Derek opened his eyes to look at the display, bleary-eyed, his vision slightly blurred without his glasses. He squinted at his phone’s screen, expecting Erica, or Allison, or anyone, really, not… him. Stiles. The only thing that kept him from picking up was the thought of Peter, his eyes wide and his grin mad. _One step and I will snap his neck._

He had been only moments away from slashing Peter’s throat. From killing him, because this had been what he had wanted in that moment. He was capable of the same things Peter did. He stared at the display once more, feeling his phone vibrate in his hand and shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, because he knew how angry Stiles would be at him right now, if he knew that all he wanted to do was to protect him. After all, and Stiles had told him more than once, Stiles was not some damsel in distress. But on the other hand… he couldn’t do this. Couldn’t be close to Stiles without wondering how long it would take, what he had to endure before becoming a monster, just like Peter.

For a moment there, he wondered what he was so afraid of. Peter had always been ruthless. The Peter he had known before the fire had made him into this cruel creature; he hadn’t been completely out of his mind, sure, but he had always been a bit careless about others. Derek sighed, his head sinking down on the pillow. Careless. Peter had never been careless enough to let his family die in a fire.

After a while, he realized that it wasn’t so much that he was afraid of becoming a monster. It was that he was afraid of already being one. And if his glowing blue eyes were telling the truth, he wasn’t that much unlike Peter after all.

 

***

 

The second time Stiles called it was afternoon, and Laura and him were on their way to buy groceries. Laura only shook her head when Derek put his phone back into his pocket, without answering it.

There was a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth and each time, something inside of Derek broke when he put his phone away. Each time he didn’t answer the phone, his heart got torn into even more pieces, until there was nothing left but some sludge, or so Derek imagined.

When Stiles’ first and only text message lit up Derek’s phone, he refused to open it for hours. The little red “1” next to the messages icon stayed there for hours, it stayed until Derek went to sleep, it was still there when some time, in the middle of the night. Laura joined him, sinking into bed next to him with an exhausted sigh. It was there when he got up to brew some coffee a couple of hours later, when Laura came downstairs, when he went outside to chop some wood. It was there when he used his phone as a flashlight to light up the attic, where Laura had dumped some of the moving boxes, and still when he found the box he had been looking for, labeled “Derek’s Stuff”. He ignored Stiles’ message for the time it took him to find his carving knife and left his phone in the kitchen when he went outside again to the stack of chopped wood to find the perfect piece.

 

***

 

Carving was calming and Derek let himself consume by the process, so soon everything there was was wood and the cool blade against the warm material, sending chips down the ground. He didn’t think about what he was carving exactly, he let his hands work instead, so eventually he found himself humming to the melodies of Stiles’ favorite songs, singing a line or two when he could remember the lyrics. He didn’t stop, even though his heart clenched at the thought of Stiles singing while sitting on his bed with his headphones on, every part of him in motion, his fingers drumming to the beat, rocking back and forth, his toes curling every time he hit a particularly high note. He didn’t stop. He went on. His knife met the piece of wood again and again until he could feel a figure forming under his hands, until he could see the beginnings of a body, an animal, big ears laid back and teeth bared. A head came into existence, the creature’s nose was screwed up and its teeth were bared, exposing its fangs. When it became too dark to see properly, he put his knife down, weighing the figure in his hands. A fox - far from being finished, but he had started on the face, and despite being small and fragile, it looked dangerous and predatory. Ready to defend itself. Ready to attack, even.

When he went back into the house, he opened Stiles’ message with a swipe of his finger, staring at the screen. He didn’t know what he had expected - words upon words, probably, words forming questions and trailing off, emoticons and an excessive use of question marks. Not this. Stiles’ message contained one word, one question, but it was all there was to ask and it was too much for Derek to answer.

 

Stiles: _Why?_

 

He had typed out an apology before he could think straight again and barely kept himself from sending it, deleting it before it was too late. It had been rubbish, anyway, hadn’t explained anything.

“Are you okay?”, Laura asked from behind him and Derek turned around to her, his heart pounding wildly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s obvious you aren’t,” Laura told him matter-of-factly, then closed the distance between them and hugged him tightly.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Laura whispered into his jacket.

Derek nodded. Swallowed. Turned around to his phone. Turned back. Nodded again.

“I’ve been thinking about Peter,” Derek said after a moment. “Ever since Peter almost killed Scott, I’ve… I was worried there might be the possibility of becoming like him. He killed someone. He almost killed Scott and he would’ve killed Stiles. And it didn’t matter to him. Braeden, Scott, and Stiles… Their lives didn’t matter. He wanted revenge and he didn’t care about what it meant.” He shook his head, swallowing. “But actually, that’s not what I am afraid of. I’m not afraid of becoming a ruthless monster like Peter, it’s more like… I already am like him. I killed people. I killed Mom and Dad and our brothers and Aunt Caroline and… and Cora. I killed our twelve-year-old sister and our baby cousins because I was a dumb, love-sick teenager!”

Laura shook her head and took a step towards him. For a moment, it seemed that she reached out for him, but in the end she didn’t.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “You didn’t kill them.”

“Oh, come on,” Derek said, suddenly angry. He felt his eyes flashing blue and his fingernails form to claws. “What about my eyes then? You know what blue eyes mean!”

“They mean you’ve taken a life. Well, at least that’s what Peter’s taught us. I’m sorry, but after what he did I’m not taking everything he’s ever said at face value anymore, you know?”

“Yeah, so what else should they mean, then? Peter had blue eyes himself, and he killed Braeden!”

Laura shook her head. “I-I’m not sure. But you’re nothing like Peter, Derek. You’re nothing like him. He lost grip of his humanity. He _wanted_ to kill. You never did.”

“But I did. Why it happened isn’t the point, Laura! But it _did_ happen!”

“Is this about Stiles?” Laura asked. “Are you looking for something that excuses ignoring him?”

“Why would this be about Stiles?”

“Because it’s been six years, Derek!” Laura’s eyes flashed red. “The fire happened six years ago and I know what happened was awful, but you can’t blame yourself for it your whole life!” She took a breath. “You do realize I killed Peter,” she mumbled.

“You didn’t have a choice. What I did, on the other hand, was idiocy.”

“I didn’t really have a choice. So what? Didn’t you just say why it happened wasn’t the point?”

“That's different, Laura,” Derek started, but she shook her head and walked out of the kitchen.

“The fact that you just said this and that you actually _believe_ it proves that you finally need to find some goddamn closure,” Laura said without turning back.

Derek cursed inwardly, but didn’t go after her, taking his phone in his hands instead. Stiles’ message was the first thing he saw when he turned on the screen.

_Why?_

“I’m a coward, aren’t I?” Derek whispered before he followed Laura.

“I’m afraid of making wrong decisions,” he started, sitting down next to her on the couch. “I’m afraid that every time I take a wrong turn, things go sideways.” He huffed. “So, yeah. It’s about Stiles. Because apparently I’m constantly making the wrong decisions and endanger people's lives, you know? I fall in love? Fine, my girlfriend burned my family alive. I finally let Stiles close to me? Great, my uncle wakes up from a coma, goes on a killing spree and almost kills him!”

“It’s not your fault Peter went after Stiles of all people,” Laura said.

Derek shrugged. “I smelled his scent when Braeden was killed. But I thought I had just imagined it. I _forgot_ about it. And even after he’d attacked Scott, I didn’t keep Stiles save, no, I did the absolute worst thing possible and let Stiles take care of himself. I did nothing to protect him.”

“Okay, I get it, it wasn’t your best decision, but do you really think you could’ve stopped Peter from hurting someone close to you? Don’t you think he would’ve found someone else? Erica or Boyd, maybe? Maybe he would’ve started murdering random people, just for the sake of it.”

“But-”

“No, listen, Derek. Maybe you made some wrong decisions in the past. Sure, trusting Kate was a mistake, but the thing is, Kate wanted us dead. She used you as a means to an end, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault she burned down our house. If you hadn’t fallen for her, she would have found some other way. She’s a psychotic bitch and she’s resourceful, I guess most of us would be dead by now anyway. So get your fucking shit together, Derek. You made mistakes, but they shouldn’t define your life. You have to live with them, but what you’re doing is letting your mistakes dictate you.”

“How?”

“You could start by believing in yourself for once.”

 

***

 

They didn’t talk about it again for a while - neither of them mentioned their conversation again and Stiles’ text message stayed unanswered in his phone’s inbox. Laura seemed to be better, she smiled more often, and Derek once even overheard her talking with someone on the phone, some guy called Jordan, who asked her out for dinner. Later that day, Laura had a stupid grin plastered on her face and even though Derek felt a small pang of… something in his chest, he smiled when she hugged him and told him about the cute guy she’d met some time after New Year’s, a good-looking cop, only a few years older than her. She was happy for the first time in a while and while he squeezed her shoulders and she smirked at him, Derek asked himself when he would be happy again.

 

***

 

He worked on the fox almost every day, carving its tail, its paws, it’s thick fur. He didn’t even try anymore, instead listening to all the songs Stiles liked, singing to them whenever he knew the lyrics. He cut his thumb with his carving knife while dancing to someone singing about _how you get the girl_ , and Stiles had been right; every song got ten times better as soon as he sang to it. Even if it meant enduring Laura’s chuckling when she showed up behind him during one of his ‘performances’.

“I didn’t know you were into pop music,” she told him with a wink. He wasn’t. It was Stiles’ music he was into.

 

***

 

Believing in himself was harder than he had thought. During his talk with Laura, for a moment, he had thought he had understood what Laura had been saying. He had been relieved and, for a day or so, he had thought he could manage to leave his guilt behind. But he couldn’t. When tried to fall asleep, Peter was still there, calling him a murderer, a traitor.

 _You destroyed my life,_ he would tell Derek every so often. And so the guilt came back.

 

***

 

“I can’t do it,” he told Laura out of the blue, but she seemed to know immediately what he was talking about and wrapped her arms around him.

“You can. I believe in you.”

“But I don’t, Laura. It doesn’t matter how much you believe in me, or Stiles, or anyone does, it doesn’t change how I think of myself.”

Laura looked at him for a moment. “What is it you’re so afraid of, Derek? And why now, all of a sudden?”

He didn’t really know.

“I could live with the guilt,” he said after some consideration. “Most of the time I just ban it to some far away corner of my mind, but now, I think I can’t do it anymore. Before Peter decided to go on a killing spree, I felt kinda happy for once. It wasn’t perfect, I still had nightmares, but thanks to Stiles I had you again and I felt like maybe I could let go, you know? But then Peter told me I destroyed his life and now it’s my fault that a completely innocent girl is dead and Scott and… and Stiles almost got killed, too. And it’s terrifying, thinking about how the fire influences my life. But at the same time I’m afraid of accepting it wasn’t my fault after all. If I make myself believe that what Kate did wasn’t my fault… I’m pretty sure whatever I could fuck up in my life, nothing will ever be as bad as this. It would be like starting with a clean slate again. I’m afraid of what I am right now, but, at the same time, I’m afraid to let go of what I am. ”

“But that’s a good thing, Derek. Letting go, I mean.”

“No, it isn’t. Not for me. For me it’s being even more afraid of each and every mistake in my life. What if I hurt Stiles, I mean, if he still wants to have anything to do with me? What if something happens to you? I feel like without the guilt I’m feeling I’m unstable, the guilt is something I can rely on, it’s always there, it defines me in some way, it always reminds me of what I did and of who I am.”

For a while, the ticking of the living room clock was the only sound.

“You’ve made it your anchor,” Laura said. “You made it the one thing that defines your humanity, that keeps your grounded, but this way you can never let go of them. You can never be happy if your guilt is what keeps you going.”

“It’s not my-” Derek started, but then he stopped. “But I can’t let go of my anchor. Wouldn’t it mean losing control over myself?”

His sister nodded. “Having an anchor is important. You need something you can connect your humanity to, but it needs to be the right thing. Look, I think… I think Peter’s anchor was revenge. Before the fire, it was his family. His wife and kids. And choosing revenge as an anchor ultimately had been the reason why he did what he did. Because when he woke up, he was alone. He had us, sure, but we weren’t enough. He felt the loss, not just of his family but of his anchor, and he connected his humanity to the single other thing he could feel - anger. He was angry at you for telling him it was your fault and so he… So he made it his goal to take revenge. To destroy what he thought you had destroyed. He didn’t think - if he had, he would have gone after Kate Argent instead, she’s still out there somewhere. He would have tracked her down and killed her and maybe he would have felt something like relief then. But instead he chose you. He didn’t care about dying in the process of taking revenge.” Her hands grabbed his shoulders. “Choosing revenge as an anchor was a mistake. But you see, guilt is also a shitty anchor. You probably won’t lose your mind the same way Peter has, but if you let your guilt define your life, you can’t exactly call it a life.”

“So what should I do?”

“You need a new anchor.”

“What do you suggest?” Derek asked.

Laura shrugged. “A feeling? Something more positive, though. Love, trust, something you have a deep connection to. You could also choose a person-”

“Stiles. I could choose Stiles.”

“You could. But it’s risky. You see, you need to choose something that’s always there, no matter what.”

“Be your own anchor. Mom said that, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did. She told us there were two things that could always keep us grounded. Our pack and ourselves.”

“Do you think I can do that? Be my own anchor?”

“If you finally start to believe in yourself, I can’t see why not. And you still got your pack. Don’t forget that.”

 

***

 

He’d started packing. It was only random things - the books he had forgotten to take back to Boston when he had been in Beacon Hills over Christmas break, some of his old things he had found in the boxes in the attic, a pair of jeans he hardly ever wore. But he was packing and the open suitcase next to his bed was a constant reminder of it every time he went into his room.

“So you’re going back?” Laura asked him.

“Not yet.”

He had something to do first. He had a few more things to do.

First, he had to finish the fox. It took him a couple more days to work on the details, on the angry glint in the fox’s eyes, on the way his paws stood firmly on the ground, but when it was finished, Derek was satisfied. The fox turned out beautifully, a fragile little creature with big curious eyes, cute even with its puffy tail and fluffy fur. But it was dangerous, a wild animal nevertheless, ready attack, ready to kill. It was no wolf, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t defend itself well enough.

Like Stiles, he told himself. Just like Stiles.

He should apologize to him. He still had to figure out how exactly to be his own anchor, but wasn’t part of the deal to do something that could be risky in some way or another? To let someone close to him? It had worked, right? Stiles had been close to him until Peter had destroyed every bit of trust Derek had had in himself.

Trust. Right. That’s what he needed. He needed to trust himself. He didn’t want to fuck up, he didn’t want to hurt Stiles in any way. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t do it at some point, but… He had to try, right?

He packed the fox, after finishing it up and varnishing it. It was time. He had to go back - he was terrified, but he had to.

“What are you going to do about Stiles?” Laura asked when she looked over his shoulder as he booked a flight online.

“I don’t know. I’ve ignored him the last couple of weeks. I guess he hates me now.”

“I know. And he doesn’t hate you, I think. But he definitely thinks you’re a huge idiot.”

“How…?”, Derek started, frowning.

“We text every now and then, he asks about you and I keep him updated.”

Derek swallowed.

“Do you… do you think he’ll forgive me for ignoring him?”

“I don’t know,” Laura told him after a few moments of consideration. “Do you want him to? “He hates being protected. And I guess he wouldn’t forgive me for not trusting myself with him.”He paused. “I miss him.”

“You can do that, right?” Laura said, kissing his forehead.

 

***

 

There was one more thing he had to do.

“The pictures you gave me, you said you had more.”

Laura nodded. “They are in my wardrobe, in a box. Do you… “

“I guess I should have a look at them before I go.”

He went into Laura’s room, taking the box out of her wardrobe and sat down on her bed. All they had left from their family, small enough to fit on his lap.

The first thing he saw when he opened the box was his mother’s smile, broad and happy. She didn’t look like the fierce alpha wolf he remembered her as, but then again, his grandmother had still been alive back then. He took out a photo, which showed his parents, talking to each other and not looking at the camera.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for taking Kate home with me and for giving her a key and for never introducing her to you. I’m sorry for what she did to you. I guess part of it will always be my fault; you told us about hunters, you told us to take care, but I didn’t listen. But I guess Laura’s right. She would’ve found another way.”

He dried the tears that had been welling up in his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’ll always miss you and I want nothing more than to see all of you again but I need to move on and to try to live my life for once. I think that’s what you would want, right? So I’m gonna go back to Boston and… there’s this guy, Stiles, you would like him, I think. I fucked up, I left him alone when he needed me, because I was too afraid of myself to deal with anyone else, but I’ll try to fix it.” He smiled. “And I’m gonna be okay. It’s still a long way, but I’m gonna be fine.”

He felt some strange kind of warmth after he put the pictures back into the box. He was halfway wolfed out, he noticed, with his eyes glowing and his fingernails formed into claws, but something felt different; he felt secure, he felt _good_.

He went downstairs where Laura waited for him.

“Are you o-” She turned around to him, staring open-mouthed.

“Your eyes.”

“What about them?”

“They’re… look for yourself.” They went into the hallway where Laura had hung a mirror next to the coatrack.

Golden. They were golden.

“How is this possible?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But maybe your eyes reflect what you believe in.”

Derek stared at the mirror in wonder, opening his mouth and then closing it again. Maybe, just maybe, letting go of the guilt wouldn’t be so hard after all.

 

***

 

They spent one last night curled up together in Derek’s bed, between ‘I’m gonna miss you’s and ‘see you soon’s, and even though Laura felt safe and secure next to him, like a rock he could hold onto, Derek didn’t sleep. Instead, he was wide awake, his eyes searching the darkness for answers. What did his now yellow eyes mean? Did they mean Laura had been right? That it hadn’t been his fault after all? That he hadn’t been the one killing their family? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt some kind of relief washing over him. And it felt good. He was still afraid because he didn’t know what this would mean for his future, or for himself, but… for once in his life he felt like he could manage.

His mind drifted off to other things then. He missed Stiles, but although he had made a decision - he would go back and at least apologize to him, he still felt what he was going to do was selfish. Stiles deserved better than him - no matter how hard he would try, Derek was sure he would always be broken and defined by his past. Was it selfish of him to want Stiles back? Maybe it would be better to just leave things where they were now. Or was it selfish of him to deny Stiles deciding for himself? Or… did it even matter? Was it in any way possible that Stiles would want him back? In moments like this, Derek wanted his mother to be there, to tell him that everything, whatever it was, was going to be okay. To tell him that whatever happened, there was always his pack to come back to.

His fingers held the silver triskele of his bracelet, playing with it. Who was his pack? Was it just Laura? Sure, she was his alpha, but there had been times when the two of them hadn’t spoken to each other. And he had been okay. He hadn’t been fine, exactly, but… he hadn’t been alone. He slid the bracelet off his wrist, holding it against the pale light that shone through his window. There was more to his pack than Laura. And just like that, it fell into place. Just like that, the small triskele on his wrist had a meaning, a perfect one.

He traced the first spiral. His alpha. His family by blood. Laura.

The second one. His friends. People who stood by him, no matter what. People who risked their lives for him.

The third one. The one person who had changed his life. The person he was in love with. Stiles.

Well, it could be perfect, if Stiles decided to forgive him. But if not, well, if not, he would still have his sister, his friends. He wouldn’t be alone. And that was pretty okay, too.

 

***

 

A day and a long car ride later, Derek was almost hugged to death by his sister, who had tears in her eyes, pressing kisses to his cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she sniffed. “I’m proud of you, baby bro.”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek told her. “Why are you proud of me?”

“Because you finally have the courage to go back to Boston and bring your life in order. I’m glad you’ve been here with me all this time but you need to go back.” She pressed a final kiss onto his cheek, squeezing his shoulder.

“Will you be okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, looking at the floor.

“What you told me is also true for you, you know that, right?” he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it wasn’t your fault. What happened to Peter. You killed him, but he… he would have killed me and Stiles and none of us would have made it out of the warehouse.”

Laura nodded. “Promise me to visit me when the term’s over?”

“Sure. I’ll be back soon, Laura.”

“Love you,” Laura said with a small smile.

“Love you, too,” Derek said quietly and turned around. “Good luck with Stiles!” she called after him. He would need it.

 

***

 

Erica pulled him into a wordless hug when she opened the door to her room, followed by punching her fists into his chest, mumbling words like _asshole_ , _idiot_ , and _giant dickhead_ over and over again.

“I missed you, you huge moron.”

“I missed you, too. There was no one harassing me or calling me names back in Beacon Hills.”

“I actually didn’t think you’d come back,” Erica mumbled. “I know how awful it is to lose pack members. Boyd and me actually planned on visiting you in a couple of weeks.”

Derek only squeezed her more tightly.

“But I’m back now.”

“You’re back. And you seem fine.”

He nodded. “I am fine. I’m really fine.”

They stayed silent for a moment until Erica looked up to him, asking a question he was sure she’d been dying to ask since he’d shown up on her doorstep.

“What about Stiles?”

Derek shrugged. “We’ll see.”

 

***

 

It was snowing when Derek went outside to go back to his dorm room. He needed to think, needed to form some kind of plan as to what to tell Stiles - after all, Stiles could wait one more day after all those weeks now, could he? There was so much he needed to tell him - mostly that he was sorry for leaving him all alone, but Stiles needed to know why. He needed to know about what he had been afraid of, still was, actually, about what losing a pack member meant to a werewolf, he needed to know everything. He needed to know how much Stiles meant to him.

When he went up the stairs, wet and shaking from the snow that had soaked his clothes, he swore under his breath, before turning around again. Somehow, all the thinking about Stiles had led him to his old dorm, to the dorm Stiles still lived in. He stopped for a moment, looking up the stairwell. He wasn’t ready for this, right? And… he probably looked like an idiot right now, with his clothes soaking wet and his hair standing in every direction from running his fingers through it. But then again… He sighed, climbing the stairs. He’d never be ready. And what did it matter if he looked like an idiot.

He reached Stiles’ dorm room way too soon. There was light shining through underneath the door and he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat, could hear him humming quietly and typing away on his laptop. This, he realized before he knocked on the door, was it. He could knock, could face him, could pour his heart out and hope for the best, or he could turn around and not return again. He wouldn’t be here for that much longer and campus was big enough to avoid each other. They could go separate ways and Stiles would be safe from him.

This was so much more than trying to apologize, Derek realized. It was, first of all, him trying to make up his mind about himself. It was him trying to believe in himself, but not quite succeeding. Knocking on Stiles’ door as an attempt to make up with him would mean he believed what Laura had said. That he wasn’t a monster. That he would never be one. It would mean he finally accepted himself as what he was.

This was so much more than apologizing. This was trying to win back his best friend. His best friend he was in love with. His fingers touched the triskele once more. Stiles was part of his small pack, even though he was human, and he probably always would be, however this would end. Derek just hoped it would end well - after everything the two of them had been through, it would suck otherwise.

“I’m my own anchor,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. There was no going back now. He didn’t know what to say, or how to react to Stiles, but somehow he felt ready, even though his fingers were trembling and he felt a bit sick. He was ready. He would fix this. Because this, unlike so many other things in his life, could somehow be fixed.

He knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one more chapter, and it's done.  
> The song Derek sings when he's carving his fox is "How you get the girl" by Taylor Swift. Just imagine Derek carving wood and singing love songs :)  
> As usual, thanks to [Sunny and](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com) and [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Thistle) for helping us out.
> 
> We hope all of you are prepared for next week! See you on Tuesday with one last chapter full of feels :')


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

# Chapter 24

## So, at this point, Stiles should just stop being surprised at stuff. There was no way the amount of unexpected events in his life were good for his cholesterol.

 

So here was the thing.

Stiles loved romance. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, except maybe Scott, but he was a sweep-me-off-my-feet-kiss-me-in-the-rain-never-let-me-go guy all the way through. And he believed in it, too. He believed there was someone - or multiple someones - out there for everyone, someone who was just right for them, and that all those love songs were not just idealized versions of relationships and love, but that they actually existed.

Nevertheless, when he heard the knock on his door, his heart quickly skipped a beat when his treacherous mind considered the possibility that it was Derek. He discarded his thought almost as quickly as it had come up; it just wasn’t worth the disappointment.

He muted his music and ungracefully slid off the bed, yawning as he walked across the room.

“Scott, that y-” he started as he opened the door, but then his vocal chords simply stopped working and he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Derek?” he asked weakly when he’d rediscovered his ability to speak. Derek looked… well, miserable. He had rings under his eyes, his hair was wet, dripping water onto his shirt, although that was soaked as well, so it didn’t really matter, and his shoulders were hunched.

He opened his mouth to say something but he seemed just as lost for words as Stiles felt.

Suddenly something snapped in Stiles and a rush of words was tumbling out of his mouth as he was pulling him inside.

“Jeez, Derek, you’re going to freeze to death like this, werewolf strength be damned. Come on, sit down, I’ll get you a towel - what were you thinking going out in this weather, I mean seriously-” he pushed Derek down on the bed and went towards the bathroom to rummage for a towel as best as he could, trying to keep his cast out of the way., “-no sane person walks around without a jacket this time of the year Derek, not even werewolves-” he brought the towel back to Derek and threw it in his lap, “-do you really have no self-preservation?”

The words finally died out and now he just stood there in front of Derek, who was looking up at him wide-eyed from where he was sitting, towel in his lap, exhaling slowly.

“If you won’t talk, can you at least dry off so I can stop worrying about you?” Stiles said finally, slumping down on the bed, a considerable distance between them. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw Derek’s lips twitch before he actually started drying off his hair. There was not much he could do about his shirt except the obvious, but Stiles wasn’t going to go there just yet.

Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, watching Derek warily. “What are you doing here, Derek?” he asked quietly, and a little bit resigned.

Derek swallowed, looking up at him briefly, before his eyes fell on the cast and a pained look crossed his face that was gone almost as soon as it had come, but it had been there all the same. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands, which were still clutching the damp towel.

“Stiles, I-” Derek started but then broke off, helplessly looking back at him. Stiles just watched him, unblinking. He wasn’t going to throw him out but he wasn’t going to make this easy for him either.

Derek huffed and straightened his shoulders, determination entering his eyes. “Stiles, I know what I did was unacceptable,” he started then, and his voice was strong and secure, maybe stronger than Stiles had ever heard it. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he continued, still holding Stiles’ gaze, “but, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up, or reply or call. But most of all, I’m sorry you got hurt, and if I could change-”

“Seriously Derek?” Stiles interrupted, “You’re sorry Peter hurt me?” Stiles didn’t even pause long enough to feel sorry about Derek’s wince at the mention of his uncle’s name. “Well, guess what, Derek, you can’t protect me from everything. And you-” he took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued, “-you weren’t responsible for Peter’s actions, Derek. And you know what? Waking up in the hospital without you there hurt far worse than _anything_ Peter could have done to me.”

Derek winced again and Stiles could see his jaw harden before he responded. “I know that, Stiles. I do now, at least. And I know you don’t need my protection. You’re perfectly capable of fending for yourself and I’m going to respect that in the future.” His eyes widened at the realization of what he’d just said and he hurried to add: “Not that I’m assuming I’ll be there. In your future, I mean. Not unless you want me to be.”

Stiles wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. “I’m listening,” he said quietly.

Derek just stared at him for a few seconds and then looked back down at his hands, swallowing. “Look, I… I locked you out because I thought I was protecting you.” Stiles opened his mouth to object, but Derek raised his hands in surrender, giving him a pleading look. “I know now that was idiotic. You don’t need protection, least of all from me if I have any say in it, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize that earlier.”

Stiles gave him a long hard look. “I believe you,” he said evenly. “But Derek…” he swallowed, “You were just gone.”

“I know.”

“I was alone.”

“I know.”

Stiles could feel tears sting in his eyes and he wasn’t even going to try to hide them. “I needed you,” he said and his voice broke, not just because of what he said but also because of Derek’s face. Stiles knew Derek meant what he had said but he needed him to understand.

“I know,” Derek said again and reached out to touch Stiles’ cheek, but Stiles pulled back. The hurt in Derek’s face cut through his heart like a knife, but it was necessary.

Stiles didn’t say anything, He didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to _think_. He saw Derek’s shoulders slump and it physically _hurt_ to see it, but there was nothing he could do. He was hurt, too.

Then Derek reached into his pocket and got out... the bracelet Stiles had given him? Stiles was about to ask but then thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

Derek put the leather strap with the pendant on the bed between them and looked down at his knees. “I took it off because I wasn’t sure if you still wanted me to wear it,” he said quietly.

Stiles frowned. “It was a present,” he said, fully well knowing that didn’t answer the question at all.

Derek huffed, probably thinking the same thing. “You told me to find a new meaning for it,” he said slowly, delicately choosing his words. “And I think I did.” He took a deep breath. “I needed something to ground me. Something that would stop me from constantly thinking about what I lost and remind me of what I still have.” Derek winced at that, but then reached out and traced one of the spirals, just like he had done when he had first explained the triskele to Stiles. It was Stiles’ turn to wince, thinking about that day.

“Laura, my pack,” Derek said, still pointing at the first spiral but then moving on to the next one, “my friends, Erica, Boyd, hell, even Scott and Allison,” he paused, hesitating before the next spiral, “and you,” he said finally and Stiles felt his heart jump uncomfortably in his chest, although he really should have seen in coming. He shook his head and was just about to bury it in his arms when Derek said, “No, I know. I don’t mean it like that. But you helped me through one of the most difficult times of my life and you helped me reconnect with my sister, and… basically, without you, I would be even more miserable than I am now. And the difference is this time I know I’ll be okay.”

Stiles felt new tears well up in his eyes, but this time it wasn’t out of hurt or anger.

“Because if you tell me to leave and to never come back, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Even though I’m going to hate it and it’s going to break me; I will do it if you tell me that’s what you want. Because I can live without you, Stiles. I can. I just don’t want to.”

Something inside of Stiles broke when Derek said this and the tears that had been burning in his eyes were now running down his cheeks and he shook his head violently, giving Derek an accusing stare. “Why are you _saying_ these things, seriously?”

Derek looked taken aback and was about to reply when Stiles rolled his eyes and cut him off. “No, idiot, it’s my turn to talk.”

Derek’s mouth snapped shut and he looked at Stiles wide-eyed, like a deer in the headlights. Stiles would probably have found it hilarious under any other circumstances.

“The thing is,” Stiles said “that it’s really all my fault because I should _so_ have seen this coming you know? Of _course_ the hot roommate is a magical creature and of course the big bad wolf turns up right after the main character and the love interest get together. And of course the dark, broody love interest fucking _runs away_ because of a stupid guilt complex after the climax of the plot. It’s textbook, really. Everyone knows this. So why _the fuck_ am I even surprised?!”

Derek opened his mouth again to say something, but he ignored him expertly.

“And then of-fucking- _course,_ just when I think I’m finally ready to try and move on,you turn up at my doorstep _like you stepped out of a Taylor Swift song and ask me to forgive you_?”

Derek looked like someone had punched him in the gut. Stiles tried not to care. He took a deep breath and huffed. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just _so_ typical, seriously. Ugh.”

Now Derek just looked lost and confused. Stiles almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Goddamnit, what was it with the guy and his puppy eyes. Stiles hated them. Passionately.

“Look, Derek. I… I ‘m not sure what to do with this,” he said helplessly.

Derek nodded and bit his lip and at that point Stiles was still really, _honestly_ trying not to care, but it was hard. Because there Derek was, pouring his heart out to him, and Stiles’ defences were crumbling.

“You don’t-”

“Oh, I do Derek, I do. Because the thing is, no matter how self destructive it is, if I let you walk away now…” he didn’t finish the sentence, just looked at Derek and his eyes were stinging again. He stared at him stubbornly. “I don’t want to forgive you.”

Derek’s breath caught. “So don’t,” he said quietly, but Stiles could hear the unevenness in his voice.

“No, you see,” Stiles said, “I already have. That’s the whole problem, Derek.” Stiles was crying again and he _hated_ it, he hated that Derek could do this to him, and it was getting increasingly hard to stay away.

“You cannot do this to me again, do you understand?” he said through his tears, mentally pleading, begging him to understand. “You can _not_ leave me like that. Not without an explanation, not without a _reason_.”

Derek nodded, his face contorted with pain. “I know, I know, I promise.”

Stiles shook his head. “No. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Derek swallowed. “Alright. I take it back. But I will say, I fully intend to not leave you like this again. Not if I have any say in it.”

Stiles stared at him, almost resigned. “I really don’t want to forgive you.”

Derek looked away. “Yeah, you’ve said that already.”

“You left and you didn’t call or text or… I don’t know, let me know you were alive?!”

Derek’s shoulders tensed and he nodded. “I’m not asking you to-”

“Shut up, I’m talking.”

Derek’s mouth snapped shut, and then the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

Derek was trying not to smile and it was contagious and Stiles hated him.

“Stop it, I’m trying to be mad at you!” Stiles said, but he was barely able to keep the smile out of his voice.

Derek, smart boy that he was, stayed quiet, watching Stiles expectantly, a half smile still on his lips.

Stiles took a deep breath and continued. “You made decisions about my life you had no right to make.”

The humor in Derek’s expression subsided slightly and he nodded.

“You didn’t even-”

“Stiles.”

“Okay, what part about ‘shut up’ wasn’t cle-”

“Stiles, I love you.”

“I thought I’d told you to shut- wait, what?” Stiles started at him unblinking because his brain had just short-circuited.

Derek stayed silent for another few seconds before saying, “Oh, I’m allowed to talk now?”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. So he threw a pillow into Derek’s face. “That is not funny, Derek!” he said vehemently and his voice was a few pitches higher than he’d intended. “I swear if you’re just saying that-”

“Stiles!” Derek looked genuinely horrified. It was a weirdly calming sight. “I wouldn’t. You _know_ I wouldn’t.”

Stiles closed his eyes and swallowed. “I hate you,” he whispered and meant the opposite.

He felt more than he saw Derek flinch and opened his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said, grimacing, “I didn’t mean that.”

Derek nodded, not looking at him. “I know.”

Stiles swallowed. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Derek said without hesitation and finally did look up at him. “Yes, I meant it and I’ll say it again if that’s what you need to hear, I lo-”

“Whoa, no, stop right there,” Stiles said hastily, raising his hands. “It was bad enough the first time, you’re going to get me a world record for being the youngest person ever to have a heart attack.”

Derek looked a bit taken aback and, without thinking, Stiles reached out to grab his hand. “No. No, no, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant it like-” he broke off, staring at their joined hands for a moment before he started giggling. “Oh my god, I’m sabotaging myself, this is not okay. Oh my god.”

When he looked up at Derek, he was trying not to smile again and, really, if he kept doing that then Stiles was completely lost anyway.

He felt Derek’s hand shift under his as Derek carefully tangled their fingers together.

“Wow, Derek, this is not how this works, you’re supposed to be mad at me now.”

Derek just looked at him, unimpressed.

“I’ve been saying horrible things to you. Be mad at me!”

Derek just raised his eyebrows.

Stiles groaned and leaned his forehead against Derek’s shoulder, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know how to do this, Derek. I’m so confused. I should be mad. I _am_ mad. But I’m also just really glad you’re here,” he told Derek’s shoulder and his hand pulled out from under Stiles’ and for a moment he thought he’d said something wrong - well, _more_ wrong - but then he felt Derek’s arm sneak around his shoulders, gently pulling him in.

Stiles felt his defenses crumble as he pressed into Derek’s side.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Derek murmured as his arm tightened around Stiles and he unfolded his legs so he could scoot closer to Derek, like he had wanted to the second he had seen him on his doorstep.

“I’m still mad,” he murmured, just to make a point.

Derek sighed. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand protectively lying on Stiles’ back.

Stiles turned his head to press his nose into Derek’s shirt and the smell was so familiar it hurt. He lifted his head slowly until his head was eye-level with Derek. He knew he probably looked absolutely terrible but he didn’t care. Derek was here. He was sorry. That’s really all Stiles could ask for. Because everything else, everything Derek had to prove to him… he needed to give him a chance. And Stiles just knew, if he walked away now he was never going to forgive himself for it.

Derek inhaled sharply when Stiles took his face between his hands and gently kissed him on the lips, a growl resounded in his chest. Stiles smiled softly against his mouth as Derek gently lifted him and sat him into his lap, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could.

“Ow. Ouch, Derek, ribs,” Stiles complained, but there was no real bite behind it. Derek immediately loosened his grip and murmured apologies into Stiles’ neck, but Stiles pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Enough apologizing for today,” he said firmly and sealed Derek’s lips with his mouth again, with more intent this time. Derek actually _whined_ and Stiles fisted his hands into his hair, trying to press closer, even though they were already touching at every inch they could.

They kissed for what felt like an eternity, until Stiles had to come up for air. Having been pressed against Derek, his own shirt now had wet stains as well, but he couldn’t care less. He knew he had a stupidly wide grin on his face but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He cupped Derek’s face between his hands and exhaled shakily. Derek closed his eyes and turned his hand so that his stubble rubbed against Stiles’ palm. Following an instinct, Stiles leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He didn’t exactly want to bring back memories but he also knew they had to talk about it. “What happened?” he asked quietly. “After… after Peter?” he finished lamely.

Derek’s arms immediately tightened around Stiles’ waist. “I… nothing really. Laura and I were just trying to cope. Losing a pack member is… bad.” He swallowed and Stiles gently carded his fingers through his hair urging him to continue. “No matter what they did, no matter how… terrible they were.” He stopped and Stiles gently shushed him. “You know you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”Derek nodded. “I know. There’s not much to tell, though. We just... “ he shrugged, “We talked a lot. It was good. And… I made something for you, actually.” He leaned back to take something out of his pocket, which put his hair out of Stiles’ reach and he pouted.

Derek took a small object, wrapped in newspaper for protection, out of his bag handed it to Stiles, who grinned widely. “Can we make this a thing? I get a present every time we fight?”

Derek snorted but he was smiling. “Just open it, Stiles.”

Stiles carefully unwrapped it until he held the carving in his hands, his eyes wide. “Oh my god, did you carve that?”

Derek just nodded. “It’s beautiful,” Stiles murmured, “a fox right?”

“Yeah,” Derek said just as quietly and let Stiles look at it for a few more seconds.

When Stiles still hadn’t said anything, Derek gently took it from his fingers. “Do I have to be jealous of a wood carving now?”

Stiles laughed and then got a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were the jealous type.”

A growl resonated out of Derek’s chest then, which just made Stiles laugh even more. “God, you’re such a wolf,” he said affectionately and dove in for another quick kiss, snatching the fox from Derek’s hands in the process.

“Mine,” he declared and turned in Derek’s lap to put the figure on his nightstand. When he looked back at Derek, the other was fake pouting and it must have been the most adorable thing Stiles had ever seen. Stiles kissed it right off his face. “Don’t worry,” he murmured against his mouth. “You’re much more attractive than the fox.”

Derek snorted again, and Stiles stopped before he could get carried away again. “But, hey, no, I’m serious. Are you guys… okay? Is Laura okay?”

Derek nodded, his fingers absently rubbing the skin between the waistband of his jeans and his shirt. “Yeah, I guess. I… I hate to say it but I think it was good for us in a way? It brought us closer together again.” He grimaced, but Stiles was already nodding.

“Yeah, no, I get it. Once my dad got a little better after my mom’s death, I guess it brought us closer together as well.”

Derek squeezed him sympathetically, but Stiles waved him off. He wasn’t the subject of the conversation. “Keep going,” Stiles encouraged him softly.

Derek shrugged. “There’s not much more. We talked a lot. She talked some sense into me about you.” Stiles smiled. “But every time I remember him, every time I remember that he’s gone, I…” Derek swallowed and his arms around Stiles tightened once more. “I remind myself of what he did to you.” His voice was hard not almost angry and for just a moment, his eyes flared up.

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Dude, your eyes…?!”

Derek huffed. “Yeah. Surprise.”

“How did that happen?” Stiles asked in wonder, trailing his fingertips over Derek’s eyebrows.

Derek swallowed. “We’re not sure. I… Blue is not a natural eye-color for werewolves. It’s only for those of us who have taken an innocent life. Or at least that’s what Peter told us.”

Stiles tensed, but Derek’s hand rubbed soothingly over his lower back. “Now I… I think it might have been psychosomatic. You know, I think I’m responsible for my family’s death, so that’s what my body reacts to.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter now, I guess.”

Stiles nodded, going back to carding his hands through Derek’s hair. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but… I kind of _did_ tell you so.”

Derek rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “Yeah, I know, you were right, I was wrong. You happy?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Stiles leaned down for another kiss and bumped his nose against Derek’s glasses. “Are you staying tonight?” he whispered, and then froze, hoping he hadn’t said anything wrong. Derek seemed unfazed.

“If you’ll have me.”

Stiles snorted. “Of course. You have a month of lonely nights to make up for,” he joked, but Derek flinched nonetheless.

Stiles grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I won’t be one of those people reminding you of it at every opportunity. That would be terrible. I’m sorry.”

Derek just nodded. “It’s fine,” he murmured then, his arms tightening around Stiles. “I kinda deserve that.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder for that. “No you don’t. I don’t get to be an asshole just because you were one. Sort of.”

For a moment, Derek looked like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. Stiles kissed the look right off his face.

“Sleep?” he asked then, “I really, really missed you.” The last bit was more of an afterthought. He hadn’t actually told Derek this yet.

Derek huffed and blushed slightly. “I missed you, too, Stiles.” He leaned his forehead against Stiles’ chest, breathing deeply. Stiles’ hands went into Derek’s hair automatically and he kissed the top of his head. “Come on, I’m exhausted,” he murmured and gently shifted off Derek’s lap so he could pull his own jeans off. Derek nodded and slipped out of his wet clothes and under the covers. As soon as Stiles had put on his pajama pants and an old shirt he joined him, snuggling up against his chest.

“Thank you for coming back,” he murmured and pressed his lips to Derek’s collarbone. If he heard Derek’s breath hitch, he didn’t mention it.

 

***

 

Stiles woke up feeling rested and happy and warm and it was actually confusing for just a moment until he identified the warm presence against his back as Derek’s chest and remembered what had happened the day before.

It immediately brought a smile to his face and he turned in Derek’s arms so he could look at him. And make sure it was real, although he was never going to admit that to anyone, ever.

“Derek,” he stage-whispered and Derek’s brows furrowed.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured unwillingly.

Stiles grinned. Definitely real, yes.

He pressed a quick kiss to Derek’s lips before carefully extracting himself from his arms.

“Noo,” Derek whined - he _whined_ \- sleepily, stretching out his arm to reach for Stiles, which made him grin even more.

“I’ll be back in a minute, hun. I’m getting us breakfast.”

Derek cracked one eye open at that, still frowning. “ _Hun?_ ”

Stiles laughed and pulled on his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to call someone that. Not good?”

Derek just glared at him. Stiles laughed some more. “Okay okay. I’ll think of something else to call you, no problem. Just be aware, it will only get more and more embarrassing for you the more endearments you reject.”

Derek groaned and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. It made the tattoo ripple over the muscles of his back and Stiles tore himself away before he could get ideas. Like spending the next twenty minutes kissing every inch of it, for instance. He could not stop grinning as he made his way down the stairs and out of the building to get them breakfast. Maybe, if he felt inclined, he was even going to stop by Starbucks and get Derek the caramel latte he was so ridiculously fond of.

He took out his phone on the way to the bakery to text Scott, still unable to stop smiling.

 

Stiles: _Scott, are you up?_

Scotty: **Am now…**

Stiles: _Meet me at Starbucks in 10? It’s important._

Scotty: **You can’t be serious.**

Stiles: _Come on Scott. I promise you want to hear this._

Scotty: **Okay okay, I’ll be there. But you owe me.**

Stiles: _Yeah yeah just be there._

 

Satisfied, Stiles walked towards the bakery, getting croissants and cream cheese bagels, before heading to Starbucks to meet Scott. He got there while Stiles was waiting for his order, his shirt on backwards and his hair sleep-tousled. Stiles was about to laugh at him when he realized he probably didn’t look much different.

“Dude,” Scott groaned, leaning against the counter next to him. “This better be important.”  
“It is, Scotty, it is,” Stiles said and cleared his throat. “I have a man in my bed.”

Scott looked at him with narrowed eyes for a second, but then they widened in surprise. “You spent the night with someone?” he asked and Stiles decided not to feel hurt by the fact that Scott was so surprised.

“In a manner of speaking yes,” he replied casually, playing with his nails.

“I-, wha-, how- that’s great Stiles! I’m so happy you’re finally over that jerk, Der-” he stopped abruptly, clamping his hand over his mouth, as if he thought he wasn’t allowed to say his name.

Stiles waved him of. “Relax. You can say his name. If fact,” he added after a moment, “we will probably be mentioning his name quite a lot in the future.”

Scott looked at him like he was speaking Chinese and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s him. Derek. He’s the one in my bed right now.”

The barista chose that moment to hand Stiles his drinks, giving Scott a few moments to let the new information sink in. It took him until after they had exited the coffee shop to form a coherent thought. “ _What?!_ ”

Stiles gave him a look. “Sentences, Scotty. Sentences.”

Scott glared but then looked more worried than anything. “But, Stiles, he just left and-”

Stiles raised his palm signaling him to stop. “I know. I know, Scott. But he came to my doorstep yesterday and apologized. He had his reasons and I understand now. That doesn’t make it okay but it’s enough for me to give him another chance, okay?”

Scott still looked doubtful but nodded. “I guess.”

Stiles smiled affectionately. “It’s good to know you’re still looking out for me Scott. I appreciate it.”

“Always, dude. You know that.”

“Yeah, man, I do.”

Stiles looked down at the coffee cups and the bakery bag in his hands and made an apologetic gesture. “I have to go feed him. I just really, really wanted to tell you about this first.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m going back to sleep.”

Stiles snorted. “You do that. Sleep well.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

Stiles headed back to his dorm, humming quietly under his breath as he took to steps at a time to reach his room. He unlocked the door quietly, in case Derek was still sleeping, but when he opened the door, he was sitting up in Stiles’ bed, with his glasses on, reading something on his phone.

“Morning,” Stiles said happily, kicking the door shut before putting their food down on the nightstand and sitting down on the bed next to Derek, who leaned forward to steal a kiss.

“You smell like Scott,” he murmured and Stiles grimaced.

“That’s creepy. But yes. I just talked to him.”

“Mhm,” Derek hummed against his mouth, apparently not particularly interested in what he and Scott had talked about. Which was absolutely fine by Stiles, really.

“I brought you that ridiculous caramel latte you like,” he said when they pulled apart a few minutes later. Derek grinned. “Thank you.”

Stiles gave him a long look and then chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re real,” he said quietly, looking down at his knees.

Derek gently lifted his head by his chin and looked him in the eyes. “I am. And I’m planning on staying. You might as well get used to it.”

Stiles felt his chest swell with too many emotions, to many thoughts to put into words so what came out was, “I love you.”

Derek froze, his eyes widening, but somehow unable to look away from Stiles’ face. “Stiles, you don’t have to say that just because-”

“I’m not!” Stiles said vehemently, his voice higher than he had intended. “I just- I know it’s stupid to say it now, but it’s the truth and I don’t really see a point in denying it, so…” he shrugged, looking down at his knees again.

Derek scooted forward on the bed and leaned closer until he could kiss Stiles, gently cupping his jaw in his right palm. “I love you, too,” he murmured against his lips, and Stiles felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins at the words.

They kept kissing for another few minutes and then Stiles laughed when he accidentally bit Derek’s lip too hard, because apparently that really was a thing that didn’t just happen in books but also in real life.

Then one of them realized their coffee was getting cold and they had breakfast in bed, feeding each other croissants and bagels and licking cream cheese off the corners of each other's mouths.

Stiles loved every minute of it and he swore to himself that he was going to do everything in his power to keep Derek. For as long as he would let him.

 

**  
**

## Four months later

 

“I thought you told them they didn’t need to pick us up?”

“I did! I have no idea what they’re doing here, Derek, I swear!”

“I may have…”

“ _Scott_?!”

“I’m sorry, okay? They wanted to see you guys so badly and I…”

“Not cool, Scott. Not cool at all.”

“Why not? I think it’s nice!”

“ _Scott._ My dad hasn’t met Derek yet.”

“Sure, he met him at New-”

“Well, I wasn’t _sleeping_ with him then, Scott!”

“Whoa, dude, TMI!”

“Oh no, Scott, you do not get to pull that card on me after you gave me that talk about Allison’s earlobes!”

“Stiles! That was private! Derek doesn’t need to know-”

“Super-senses, remember? He heard you anyway. He was _in the room_.”

Derek cleared his throat next to them as they walked towards Laura and the sheriff in the LAX Arrivals hall. “It might me a good time to stop talking about supernatural creatures and Allison’s sexual preferences, don’t you think?”

Stiles snickered as Scott’s mouth snapped shut before he could deliver his reply and then they were already approached by a squealing Laura and an a little less enthusiastic sheriff. Laura was running towards them and Derek was already putting down his bag to hug her but she sped right past him and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. “There’s my favorite brother-in-law!” she exclaimed excitedly and Stiles blushed, his eyes automatically darting to his father, who had a pained expression on his face. “Derek,” he said with a nod and extended his hand. Derek gave an equally stoic nod and shook it. “Sir.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at them and turned his attention back to his armful of werewolf. “Hey, Laura. Good to see you, too.”

Laura finally pulled away and gently smacked him on the head. “Don’t mock me. I missed you guys.”

Laura had come to visit them over Easter and she and Stiles had had a very intimate bonding experience over the different kinds of Derek’s scowls. They had not gone a day without texting since and Derek hated it. It was super.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles said with a smile as Laura greeted Derek and Scott and hugged the sheriff, hoping to make his face lighten up a bit. “I thought I told you not to come?”

“Is your old man not allowed to pick his son up from the airport or what?” his dad said gruffly but hugged him back nonetheless.

“Sure he is. I’m glad. I just meant you didn’t need to make the trip all the way just to-”

“Pick up my son and his new _boyfriend_ from the airport? Yeah, son, I really did need to.”

Stiles blushed. “Derek’s not my _new_ boyfriend, Dad,” he said quietly, even though he knew Derek could hear every word.

“He is to me,” the sheriff said simply and picked up Stiles’ bag. “Are you ready? We should get going if we want to get there before dark. Melissa is cooking all of us dinner.”

“ _Melissa_ , huh?” Stiles stage-whispered into Scott’s ear and he grinned widely.

“I heard that!” the sheriff called from up ahead, and Stiles laughed, blindly reaching for Derek’s hand on his other side to squeeze it. When the response was only half-hearted he stopped walking, nodding at Scott to continue, and stayed back with Derek, gently turning him so he could look him in the eye. “Hey, you. What’s wrong?”

Derek shook his head. “Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”

“You have that face you always have when you’re trying to pretend something doesn’t bother you even though it does. Come on. What’s wrong?”

Derek huffed, looking down at his feet. “Your dad,” he murmured, barely loud enough for Stiles to understand over the airport noise all around them.

“What about him?” Stiles asked softly, even though he could probably guess.

“He doesn’t like me.”

Stiles snorted. “What makes you think that?”

“Did you see how he looked at me?”

“Yeah. That’s the look he gives everyone the first couple of times he meets them. It’s a cop thing. Nothing personal.”

“But what if…”

“What if what?”

Derek sighed. “What if he doesn’t approve?”

Stiles started laughing but immediately stopped when he saw Derek’s hurt expression. “Sorry. I’m sorry. But believe me, he approves. I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know?” Derek asked doubtfully.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well, he didn’t pull his gun, for once.”

Derek glared at him.

“Okay okay. No, but I’m serious, Derek, I know he approves. You know why? Because he told me something the other day on the phone, when we were talking about coming home. You know what it was?”

“What?”

“He said, he couldn’t remember me being this happy since before my mother’s death.”

Derek swallowed and stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“And you know what? He likes me being happy. It’s his thing, okay? And he knows you’re a big part of it. So, believe me, he approves. He’s just also very protective. Give him some time.”

Derek exhaled and Stiles could see the tension drain from his shoulders.

“Okay,” he said then and leaned forward to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles grinned and laced their fingers together. “Come on. If Mrs. McCall is making what I think she’s making, then we’re in for a real treat.”

Derek nodded, a small smile curling around his lips as he let Stiles pull him into the direction the others had vanished to.

Stiles squeezed his hand once more and then began talking about all the things they had to do during the summer, maybe a road trip to Oregon, or Washington, or possibly both. He didn’t stop talking when they got into his dad’s cruiser, or let go of Derek’s hand.

It was good to be home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this was it. We reeeally hope you liked how we wrapped things up?
> 
> Also, this is the point where we thank you once again for joining us on the incredible ride that was this fanfic. We started planning it almost 10 months ago and now we're here and we could not have asked for a better reaction. You guys are amazing and you made it all worth the work that we put into it. We will miss the regular comments from you guys!
> 
> For me (Helena) it was also the first time I published something longer than a oneshot, so thank you for making it such a pleasant and postive experience.
> 
> Also, finally, a big thank you again to [Astrid](archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Thistle), who betaed this for us even though she's not part of the fandom, and [Sunny](dubstepsherlock.tumblr.com), who made the most amazing illustrations.
> 
> If you want to say hi, we're still on tumblr: [Helena](http://mylittlemindpalace.tumblr.com/) | [Julie](http://honeywolf.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT (17 Jan 2016): So, one of your lovely comments from some time ago pointed out that one of Derek's lines in this chapter originally came from a Jennifer Aniston movie. I wasn't sure which film the person was talking about at the time, but I recently flipped through channels and saw they were playing "Rumor Has It...", which is a 2005 Jennifer Aniston movie, and I realized that towards the end of the film, she really has a line that's almost word for word identical to when Derek says: "Because I can live without you, Stiles. I can. I just don’t want to.” I saw the movie back when it came out and the line must have stuck somehow in my head, but I couldn't for the life of me remember that I'd gotten it from a movie. Sorry about not realizing that earlier, and thank you for your continuous support of this story (:


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